Tremulous and Tender
by Natalia Vronsky
Summary: Part Thirteen Up! Raoul doesn’t show up as the patron of the Opera Populaire in the beginning. Christine realizes her angel may not be an angel and sets off to find the truth. Begins after "Angel of Music". Horrible summary, I know. Fluffy (generally). EC
1. 1

Part: 1/?

Rating: R (may go up to NC-17… I'm naughty like that!)

Summary: Based off the movie… with bits of stuff from the book(s). Raoul doesn't show up as the patron of the Opera Populaire in the beginning. Christine realizes her angel may not be an angel and sets off to find the truth. Begins after "Angel of Music". Horrible summary, I know. :) Fluffy (generally) E/C! :)

Author Notes: This is a stray from my usual Buffy and X-Men stuff… please bear with me as I go along. I wanted fluffy E/C with minimal angst and I came up with this. Also, this isn't beta'd… mostly because my usually beta told me I wasn't going to "drag me into a new fandom… I have a life," blah-di-blah… love you Daisy! Heh. Anyone willing to volunteer to beta this… that'd be cool… but otherwise… I'll try and fine-tooth it as best I can.

Disclaimer: The Phantom of the Opera and all other characters belong to Gaston Leroux and the music etc. of the musical/movie belong to Andrew Lloyd Webber and they certainly don't belong to me.

Feedback: Please and thank you. Flames… welcome-ish. I don't want "U SUK! I HATE THIS!" kind of flames, though. Thanks. :)

Christine was beaming after her performance. The applause and the flowers... it was all so unexpected. She was so happy; she hardly knew how to act.

Madame Giry entered behind her. She was smiling softly. "You did very well."

Christine smiled, sitting at her vanity. "I was terribly nervous."

Madame Giry moved behind her, smoothing Christine's hair with one hand. She pulled her other from behind her back. She held a deep, red rose, with a black satin ribbon tied around it.

"He is pleased." She placed the rose in front of Christine, looking at her through the mirror for a minute before leaving, shutting the door behind her.

Christine frowned, looking down at the rose. She picked it up and held it to her nose. It smelled wonderful. She sighed. Who was "he"? It was known the "Opera Ghost" usually left his notes with Madame Giry.

Christine assumed the woman was playing along with the joke... which was why Meg was so certain of the Ghosts existence.

"Brava! Brava!" A voice boomed throughout the room. It bounced off the walls... making the location of origin difficult to find. "Bravissima! You were perfect, Christine."

"Angel!" She cried happily. "You saw me?"

"I heard you, my dear. I always hear you."

"I could hardly believe it! I was so nervous and excited. I thought of you... to help ground me."

"Get some rest, Christine. You've had a long day."

"We're not... you're not going to give me a lesson now?"

"No."

Christine pouted. "Oh."

"Tomorrow morning."

"Okay." She perked up. She'd been afraid now that she'd sung that he wouldn't teach her anymore.

"Very well," Christine froze. Normally his voice bounced. This time... it came from one place. The mirror. "Sleep well."

"Good night." She managed to whisper, though her voice and body shook.

It couldn't be...

* * *

Sleep would not come.

She'd lain there, waiting impatiently as the giggles and gossip died, replaced by light snoring. She slipped out of bed then, carefully tip-toeing around the beds and out of the dorms.

She made her way to her dressing room, stumbling in the dark. She stood in the doorway for a few moments before she worked up the courage to walk in. She tentatively walked over to the mirror.

If what she thought was true... her angel was nothing more than a man. A man who'd betrayed her. A man who'd violated her privacy.

She felt she should be livid. But at the same time...

She stood in front of the mirror. It looked like any other mirror. Any other mirror would be removable. She placed her tiny hands along the frame, feeling for a way to move it.

It seemed to be melded into the wall. Christine felt faint.

If he was not an angel, he was still the one who'd taught her to use her voice properly. He was still the one who'd gently guided her. Who'd sung her to sleep nights she feared she wouldn't sleep. The one who'd listened to her silly dreams and fears.

She slid her hands along the frame, wherever she could reach until her fingers caught on something. It was a tiny, almost indiscernible latch. She pushed it down.

The mirror slid open quietly.

Christine shut her eyes, willing tears back. She peered into the darkness, unable to see a foot beyond her. She went to her vanity and grabbed a candle, lighting it after several failed attempts due to shaking fingers.

She walked into the darkness, the candle lighting only the area around her.

The mirror slowly slid shut behind her. The sound made her jump a little. She turned, looking into her dressing room through the mirror. One standing there could see every inch of her dressing room.

She leaned her head against the cool glass for a moment before turning around and facing the darkness.

Her curiosity was overcoming her fear of the dark. And she had to know... had to meet the man who'd lied so terribly to her. The man who'd inspired her so.

She walked for what seemed like miles down a gentle slope. It ended at a pool of water.

Christine looked around. There was nowhere else to go besides in. It didn't look deep.

She spent some time standing there debating whether to go back or go in. It seemed shallow from what she could see, but it could be deeper in other parts. Or there could be things in the water. And she was only in her nightgown.

Again her curiosity won over her better judgment. Holding the candle tightly, she stepped into the water and began to wade through.

She went with the flow of the water since she really didn't know which way to go. She went along for a few minutes when she saw heavy drapes hanging in the water. She frowned as she was pushed against them by the water. Behind she could feel bars... or a gate.

She fumbled around for an opening in the drapes. She yanked hard when she did and pulled one side open. The other side slid open too.

There was a wrought iron gate in front of her. Beyond was... it was nearly indescribable. It looked like a home in the cavernous darkness. A small boat was docked there. That was how he must travel.

It seemed a much better way of getting around than trudging through the murky water!

Christine opened her mouth to call for him to come and let her in, but no sound would come. Shaking her head, she searched around. For all that it seemed impossible to open, she'd quickly figured that there must be a switch or pulleys to open it... like the latch on the mirror.

She looked along the walls... only to misstep and find it open that way. Whatever it was must be pushed by the pole that guided the boat through the water, she reasoned.

The gate lifted and she quickly made her way to the land, where she collapsed in a fit of fatigue.

* * *

Christine must have blacked out. She opened her eyes to see she lay still in the edge of the water... which was lapping up and over her feet. Her candle was long gone; washed away or had sunk below.

She shivered as she stood, clasping her arms around her to keep warm. As she walked up, she could see a magnificent organ. The brass was glinting even in the dark. She stumbled along, trying to see if she could find a candle or gas lamp.

She found a candle, but no way to light it. She held it in its heavy holder tightly... as though it would protect her.

She clutched to the walls as she made her way along. She halted when her fingers came into contact with wood. She felt around and found a knob.

Shaking, with tears clinging to her lashes she turned the knob and pushed the door in.

She gasped and backed out of the doorway. A few candles were lit in this room. It held a wardrobe in a corner. A small desk sat on the other side of the room. In the center of the room was a coffin.

"Dear god above..." She whimpered, moving once again into the room. She lit the candle she held with one of the flickering ones. She approached the coffin with growing apprehension.

She should leave. Reasoning told her this. But, she just had to...

She set the candle on the ground and lifted the lid of the coffin up. Inside, dead or sleeping was a man. He appeared to be nude. He had a gleaming, porcelain white mask covering half his face.

Christine let out a small gasp. Was this her angel? He was surely handsome... but... this man... he'd...

She let out a scream when she noticed his eyes were open and fixed on her. She pulled away from the coffin, gasping for air. Something brushed against her leg and she screeched again, jerking backwards only to trip and fall.

She scooted back on the carpeting. A small cream and brown kitten meowed and hissed at her. It hopped on her and scratched at her nightgown and legs.

She scooted back, pushing the demon cat away.

While struggling to get away from the vicious cat, she failed to notice the man climb out of the coffin. The cat noticed first and ran over, rubbing against his legs.

He wasn't nude, as she'd thought. He wore pants... just no shirt. His chest was well muscled, though covered with scars.

Christine stared at him, unable to move or even breathe. The way he towered over her was intimidating.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she gathered her wits and spoke first, "Angel of Music, you deceived me."

Another Note: Part two should be up by Monday, unless I get a few hours family free to post it sooner… so it won't be a terribly long wait. :)


	2. 2

Part: 2/?

Summary, Disclaimer, etc. in first chapter.

To say Erik had been shocked when he'd woke to see Christine's tear-filled eyes staring down at him, would have been an understatement. He was horrified and angry and deliriously happy all at once.

He was thankful he'd been so tired earlier that he'd not taken his mask off. If she had seen his face...

Her words, however, burned him worse than any pain he'd endured in his life. "Angel of Music, you deceived me."

Tears coursed down her cheeks and he longed to wipe them away. He stayed where he was, though, taking in her scantily clothed form. She wore a thin nightgown that was soaked through.

Well, that answered how she got there. How she found the switch on the mirror and managed to get past all his traps was beyond him.

He walked to his wardrobe and pulled out his thickest cloak and a shirt. He put the shirt on quickly before going back and holding out the cloak.

She stared at it and him disdainfully. He wasn't surprised. He _had_ deceived her. And he was used to such reactions from people. He had hoped she would be different... but alas...

"I will not let you catch your death of cold." He said, kneeling before her and carefully, as not to touch her, draped the cloak around her shoulders.

At the sound of his voice, she began sobbing. She buried her face in her hands, shaking her head. His voice, no doubt erased to any linger stands of hope that he wasn't the man who'd called himself her angel.

"How could you?" He heard her cry.

Erik ran a hand through his hair. It was her tears that brought him to this place to begin with. If she had not been so beautiful, crying in that chapel all those years ago, he might not have spoken to her. But she was... crying for her father and the Angel of Music he'd promised her. How could he deny her? And now how could he possibly explain?

He'd fallen in love with her then. Not the consuming, burning love he felt for her now... a much purer, innocent love that drove him to become her Angel of Music. That love which made him do all sorts of insane things he'd never dare do but for the sake of her.

That damned bedroom was a prime example. The beautiful, expensively decorated room which he'd built once she'd begun her journey into womanhood and he began longing for her in less than noble ways. He'd hoped to reveal himself one day. He wasn't sure he was altogether ready now, though.

Damn her inquisitiveness.

"I could apologize, but I'd hardly mean it and I daresay you wouldn't believe me."

She shook her head again, pulling the cloak tight around her. She rubbed the material over her reddened eyes before looking at him.

"Why did you do it? What sort of sick amusement did you get out of it?"

"None, my dear. I merely wanted to help you. Forgive me if I felt you wouldn't want the help of a man who lived underneath the opera house."

"You could see into my dressing room. I'd changed in there..." She sobbed. "You violated my privacy."

"I never..." He turned away. That was a lie. He had watched her undress. Too many times... too many torturous times. "I never watched you undress, Christine." He finished his lie. It's not as though she would ever learn the truth.

"You swear?"

Erik shut his eyes. Lie or be honest and earn more of her scorn. He weighed the options and chose. "Yes. I swear."

He turned when he heard her sigh in relief. She slowly picked herself up off the ground.

Ayesha hissed angrily at Christine. He forced himself not to laugh at it. Damned cat hated everyone but him.

"What's wrong with your cat?" Christine asked after she wiggled her fingers in front of Ayesha brown face and the cat tried to bite them.

"She's... temperamental." He shrugged.

"She? What's her name?"

"Ayesha."

"Ayesha." She repeated, then crouched, cooing it to the cat. Ayesha surprised him by sauntering over and butting her face against Christine's hand. Christine squealed and rubbed Ayesha's head gently before lifting her into her arms and cradling her. "A pretty name for a pretty cat." She kissed the Siamese's head lightly. Erik envied Ayesha in that moment. "And what of her owner? What is his name?"

"Erik."

"Simply Erik?"

"Yes."

"Well, Erik, I'm wet and cold. Would you be so kind as to perhaps light a fire?"

"Of course," He led her out of the room and into the library. He lit a fire and motioned for her to sit in the high-backed chair he favored. She surprised him by choosing to sit directly in front of the fireplace… on the floor.

She sat down, his cloak billowing around her. She let go of Ayesha to hold her hands closer to the fire.

"I will have to remember to not do that again." She gave a half-hearted laugh.

"What possessed you?"

"I had to know." She turned back to face him. Her eyes grew round suddenly. "You're… you're the Opera Ghost!"

Erik grinned. "Yes, I am."

"You're not going to kill me, are you?"

"What?" He laughed. She thought he wanted to kill her? "I would sooner cut off my arms than harm you."

"Oh." She seemed relived to hear this. "Does anyone know you're not a ghost?"

"Madame Giry does."

"Really?" Despite the tone of her voice, she honestly didn't seem that surprised. "That does make sense. She almost always delivers your notes. Are you friends with her?"

"I do not give the notes to her. They are merely put across her path. As for being friends, I have not spoken to her in many years."

"Well, how did she find out?"

"She brought me here when I was a child." He said shortly, looking away from her, hoping she would stop her current line of questioning. Memories from that time were not ones he liked to think of. When he faced her again, she was staring up at him with concern in her eyes.

"Erik, how long have you lived down here?"

"Somewhere near thirty years."

Her eyes widened. She stood and walked over to him. "But, why?"

"Why not?" He shrugged. He looked down at her… daring her to bring up his mask. He could tell that's what she was thinking about.

He'd expected her to ask about it; not try to grab it. When her hand shot up, he was surprised. He didn't react until her fingers were tugging at the edges of it. He quickly grabbed her hand, halting her actions and held her wrist tightly, albeit gently. It wouldn't do to hurt his delicate little flower.

"I suggest, my dear, if you wish me to continue in the cordial manner I have been, you will refrain from trying to remove my mask." He couldn't help the hint of anger from ebbing into his voice and immediately wished he had a better hold of his emotions when he saw fear creep over her features.

"S-s-sorry." She pulled away from him and sat in front of the fire again.

Erik sighed; readjusting his mask to make sure it wouldn't slip accidentally after it'd been tampered with. "Christine."

"Yes?" She feigned interest in the dancing flames so she wouldn't have to look up at him.

"I can row you back if you'd like."

"Oh. Okay."

"Or…" She looked up then. He felt it would be a mistake, asking her to stay, but he wasn't ready for her to leave now that she was there. "You could stay here."

"Where would I sleep?" She asked warily, obviously remembering his coffin.

"I shall show you." He held his hand out to her. He was surprised when she showed no hesitation in slipping her hand into his and allowing him to pull her to her feet. Erik shut his eyes for a moment, relishing the feel of her warm, little hand in his.

He led her out of the library and past his bedroom. He opened the door to her bedroom.

She clutched his hand tightly and moved so close to him, her body was pressed against his as he led her into the darkened room. She refused to loosen her hold on him when he tried to move from her. He looked down at her with some concern. He could see perfectly in the dark, but she could not.

She confessed her fear of the dark to him long ago. And he still heard the other chorus-girls mock her for her wish to have a candle remain lit in the dorms at night.

She smiled sheepishly and let go of his hand. He quickly made work of lighting all the candles in the room. He would give her no reason to fear being down there with him.

As the room slowly awoke by flickering lights, he heard her gasp in delight. "This is the most magnificent room I've ever seen!"

Erik smiled at her reaction. It was magnificent. He only had the best of materials and furniture brought in. Only the best for her…

"You are more than welcome to stay here anytime you wish."

"Thank you." She ran her fingers over the intricately carved swan bed.

He nervously motioned to the wardrobe. "There are clothes in there. They should fit."

"Erik, did you…" She frowned as she opened the wardrobe to see many dresses. Some costumes, others the latest in French couture. It was so glaringly obviously they were her size. She was quite petite. "Did you bring this stuff down here just for me?"

There was no point in lying. "Yes."

"You were going to tell me the truth then?"

"Well…"

Christine graced him with the most beautiful smile in that moment. "I should like to stay tonight. Will you take me back in the morning, after our lesson? We will still have our lesson tomorrow morning, won't we?"

"If that's what you wish." He made a slight bow and moved to the door.

"Wait." She shrugged off his cloak and handed it to him.

He looked away quickly. Her nightgown was dry, but it was still a terribly thin thing. "Goodnight, Christine."

"Goodnight, Erik."

Review Responses:

Okay, first… wow. I honestly didn't expect such a positive response... so… wow… thanks. My ego and I are very happy! :)

neo-lover72

Thanks!

synaesthesia

Probably… and as nice as reviews are, they don't particularly drive me. Plus, I do plan to get graphic and probably naughty (wink, wink) and don't wanna get in trouble with the fic. police for not being properly rated. ;)

MeL

Update? Wish granted! Hehehe. Hope I didn't disappoint with this! I absolutely loved writing their first "meeting".

af881

I know, I know… the coffin thing seemed to get many a giggle. I did too, when I wrote it. Maybe because I've just seen "Dracula 2000" with Gerry. And that'd be awesome if you don't mind beta-ing. I'll send you chapter three sometime today!

Nicole Gruebel

I know. I always feel bad for her. She gets such a bad rap as dense. I like Christine with a little brain. (Heaven knows she wouldn't have picked Raoul if she'd been smarter! Lol)

cory

Thanks! I hope you enjoyed this part!

Erik'sTrueAngel

Eep! Great expectations. Lol. I hope it turns out as good as everyone's thinking!

Bec

Hahaha. I know! He thinks he's so slick and secretive! It's kind of fun to see all his years of hard kept secrecy blown by Christine's curiosity.

tactics

Awww… see… they'll keep with the lessons. But, I think having her around may distract our poor boy from completing Don Juan Triumphant (hint, hint). ;)


	3. 3

Part: 3/?

Disclaimer, summary, etc. can be found in the first chapter.

Uber-Thanks: To Kelsey and Sarah for beta-ing for me. You guys rock! ;) hugs and kisses

Christine was silent as Erik took her back. She had so many thoughts and questions churning in her brain. She didn't know how to sort through them.

He docked the boat and helped her out. She held onto his hand as they walked up to her dressing room.

They'd had a brief lesson that morning. He played his organ as she sang. Unfortunately, she wasn't able to concentrate and missed several notes. He'd stopped playing, taking a deep breath before offering to row her back before breakfast would be served above.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Hum? Oh, yes. The bed is a million times more comfortable than mine." She wasn't sure why she couldn't sing. Though, she could probably attribute it to the fact that he was no longer an angel inspiring her voice to new heights, but a man who made her heart flutter.

"Is there something troubling you?"

"No. Not really." It was eerie how he seemed to know what she was thinking and could sense her moods.

He directed her along side him. "Christine, I know you feel I betrayed you and I am not the angel you thought yourself confessing to, but you can still tell me anything."

She looked down nervously. She didn't want to tell him that his mask and sudden, drastic change in moods when she'd tried to remove it were a big part of what troubled her. "It's nothing, Erik, really."

They were before the mirror before she knew it. He flicked a latch and it opened. She entered first, and cautiously, making sure no one was in there before he followed.

A few rays of light were streaming in and Christine was able to really see Erik for the first time. She'd seen him, yes, but there was something more honest and true about natural light on a persons form.

The part of his face that was visible was quite handsome. The mask, though eerie and dangerous looking only served to make Erik look more dashing. His eyes were a deep green that appeared blue in the cavernous below. His inky black hair was neatly slicked back behind his ears.

"I trust," He spoke, snapping Christine out of her thoughts, "that you will not tell anyone of all you've seen and now know."

"I won't tell a soul. Will you come tonight?"

His lips twitched in a smirk. "If you wish." Christine flushed at the words he chose. "If you wish." There was something endearing about the tone of subjugation he used. He truly sounded as though he meant it, too. Anything she wished, be it in his power, was hers for the asking. And it was she who should say such things! She owed him so much. There would be nothing she could offer to pay him back for the protection, friendship and tutoring he'd given her over the years.

She could only give him the devotion she'd always given him. The devotion he seemed to have for her in spades.

"Until tonight, then." Christine smiled as he disappeared through the passage and the mirror took its place.

She spared the mirror a lingering glace, knowing he was still there before spinning in a half pirouette and rushing out of the dressing room.

* * *

Meg had been the only one of the ballet rats to notice Christine had gone missing. She'd cornered her after practice. 

"Well, Mademoiselle Daaé, where were you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I woke in the middle of the night. You were not in bed."

"I…" Christine looked away from her friend nervously. "I couldn't sleep. I went to the chapel. Afterwards, I went to my dressing room. I fell asleep there."

Meg stared at her, not believing, for a moment. "It can't have been comfortable."

"No." Christine laughed. "I'll try not to make a habit of it."

"And you should be careful wandering about. You never know when the Opera Ghost might strike next."

"Meg, I fear the Opera Ghost as much as I fear you. He shan't hurt me." The last bit she said in a slightly wistful tone. Erik had said he'd rather cut his own arms off than hurt her. She would be safe from his opera house antics.

"I wish you would believe me. He's very real." Meg shrugged. "If you aren't afraid of the Opera Ghost, maybe you'd be afraid of the stage hands, like Joseph Buquet. Maman says we should always be on guard when we are alone."

"Meg, I was fine. I'll be sure to stay in the dorms tomorrow… to ease your mind, if nothing else."

Meg sighed, before taking Christine's hand. "Come one, they're going to post the cast list for _'Il Muto'_."

The cast list had indeed been posted. Christine won the role of The Countess. She was excited, but at the same time nervous. If she was going to be getting more lead roles, she would have to overcome the nervousness. She also had Box Five to focus on. Now that she knew that's where Erik would be, silently giving her the strength to stand there in front of Paris's elite.

The day couldn't end faster for Christine. Erik had promised to go at night time. She could only hope he was patient. Meg seemed reluctant to sleep. The girl was chattering on and on.

Christine could merely smile and nod in response.

"Christine, rumor has it the Opera Ghost has a fondness for you!" One of the ballerinas giggled.

"What?" Christine's face paled.

"He's mentioned you in his letters to Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur Andre."

"Really?" Meg's eyes widened, glancing over at Christine. "I'd not heard that."

"That's a surprise, considering it was your mother who delivered the notes!" Another girl exclaimed.

"How—where did you hear this?" Christine finally asked.

"I overheard them in their office! They were quite upset, but the Opera Ghost was _quite_ pleased with your performance the other night and made it clear to them that you were to get the lead in "Il Muto" or something terrible would happen!"

"That is silly. There is no Opera Ghost," Christine muttered, lying on her side, away from them.

So, Erik had been busy during the day. She'd envisioned him sitting at his organ, playing away. But, the man must do something to occupy his time. Furthering her career for one. As much as she did appreciate it, she wished he wouldn't threaten the managers so.

* * *

The girls continued talking for a few hours before they were all asleep. It was then Christine snuck out of the room, as she had the night before and made her way to her dressing room. 

She was almost there when she saw Joseph Buquet a few hundred feet ahead of her. He had his back to her and was swaying drunkenly in a mockery of dancing.

Christine lightly opened the door of her dressing room, and slid in. She shut and locked the door behind her, fearing he might have caught sight of her.

She jumped when she turned around. Erik stood there with a lantern in his hand. "Mademoiselle." He bowed with a twirl of his cape.

"Monsieur." She curtsied before she giggled. She was still in her nightgown. Out of air, it seemed, he produced a fine, black velvet cloak for her. He helped her put it on before taking her hand and leading her down once more.

Review Responses:

Or lack thereof. I just wanted to say thank you so, so, so much to everyone. I will respond to the reviews soon… I just wanted to post this a.s.a.p. so as to not keep you guys waiting too long! Nate


	4. 4

Part: 4/?

Disclaimer, Summary, Etc. can be found in the first chapter.

Can I Ever Say Thanks Enough: Kelsey and Sarah for going above and beyond… I think I love you guys!

Christine sat in Erik's library, curled up on the sofa. Ayesha sat on her lap as she read. The domesticity of the situation made Erik's heart swell.

He sat across from her in a chair, pretending to read, while he watched her. She had no idea.

Every few minutes, her nose would scrunch up, as though she did not comprehend a certain passage. She would also, at times, mouth the words she was reading. Erik found it all so endearing.

It was the third night in a row she'd come to him. She'd found his small kitchen the day before while exploring the underground house. She'd made him a grand dinner-- it was quite good. Madame Giry had forced the girls to learn other skills besides dancing and singing.

Christine swore, after having to bring a good deal of food from the opera houses kitchen, that she would cook for him every night. She'd given him the saddest pout when she could only find a few pieces of stale bread, some cheese, eggs and water.

He didn't have the heart to tell her he usually stole his meals from the opera kitchen. He supposed if she was going to be staying with him so frequently he would have to have more food available. She would probably frown upon his stealing.

"Erik?" He waited a moment, flipping the page as though he'd just finished the last before looking up at her. She was smiling as though she had a tremendous secret to tell.

"Yes?"

"Do I have something on my face?"

"No. Why do you think that?"

"Well, it's just… you were staring at me for so long, I felt that must be why." Her eyes sparkled with barely contained laughter.

Erik blushed. He must be getting old! To be caught so red-handed. "Er… well…"

Christine giggled. "Where are your fine, flowery words now, Monsieur?"

Erik glared at her, not used to the playful way Christine was mocking him. He didn't know how to act besides being angry.

She stopped giggling when she noticed he was upset. "Erik, forgive me. I was only playing…"

"No. I apologize. I'm not used to…" He shook his head. "I've spent so little time around others. I suppose it will take some time to get used to such things."

She jumped off the sofa, poor Ayesha falling to the floor with a hiss. She went to his chair, and sat on the floor in front of him. She put her hands on his knee. "And we will have plenty of time, won't we?"

"Yes." He reached out, stroking her cheek gently. She gingerly laid her head on his legs as he continued caressing her cheek and hair. "It's late and you have early rehearsals for 'Il Muto' tomorrow."

He pulled her up as he stood, and slid her arm through his as he led her to her room. She leaned against him heavily. Looking down at her he could see her eyes drooping.

He let go of her arm to scoop her into his arms. She giggled lightly, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

Erik buried his face in her hair as he opened the door to her room. He began to lay her down but she tightened her arms around him.

"Sing to me?" She pulled to look at him. His heart nearly stopped at the look at warmth in her eyes. He nodded, sitting on the bed, holding her to him gently, like the treasure she was.

"_Night-time sharpens,  
heightens each sensation ...  
Darkness stirs and  
wakes imagination ...  
Silently the senses  
abandon their defenses..."_

Her fingers played with the ends of his hair; her face tucked into his neck. He could feel her warm breath on his skin and it made him shiver.

_"Slowly, gently  
night unfurls its splendor . . .  
Grasp it, sense it -  
tremulous and tender . . .  
Turn your face away  
from the garish light of day,  
turn your thoughts away  
from cold, unfeeling light -  
and listen to  
the music of the night . . ."_

He pressed his lips to the top of her hair in a gentle kiss before resting his masked cheek there. He tightened his arms around her as she snuggled closer.

"_Close your eyes  
and surrender to your  
darkest dreams!  
Purge your thoughts  
of the life  
you knew before!  
Close your eyes,  
let your spirit  
start to soar!  
And you'll live  
as you've never  
lived before . . ."_

She pulled back to look up at him. She smiled softly, bringing one hand down his shoulder, resting it over his heart. He clasped that hand in one of his larger, gloved ones.

"_Softly, deftly,  
music shall caress you . . .  
Hear it, feel it,  
secretly posses you . . .  
Open up your mind,  
let your fantasies unwind,  
in this darkness which  
you know you cannot fight -  
the darkness of  
the music of the night . . ."_

He pressed his forehead to hers, gazing into her lovely, expressive eyes.

_"Let your mind  
start a journey through a  
strange new world!  
Leave all thoughts  
of the life  
you knew before!  
Let your soul  
take you where you  
long to be!  
Only then  
can you belong  
to me . . ." _

She smiled at him again. Their faces were so close, he could feel the smile.

_"Floating, falling,  
sweet intoxication!"_

She raised their joined hands to caress his unmasked cheek.

_"Touch me, trust me  
savor each sensation!"_

He shut his eyes as her fingers danced across his skin.

_"Let the dream begin,  
let your darker side give in  
to the power of the music that I write -  
the power of the music of the night . . ."_

Her hand still on his face, she nestled back down into his arms, her head on his shoulder.

_"You alone can make my song take flight-"_

He looked down at her. She was fast asleep. He gently laid her on the bed, pulling the covers over her. He ran his fingers across her cheek and down her jaw.

_"Help me make the music of the night…" _

Making sure she was adequately tucked in, he forced himself away from her and pulled the curtain down around the bed. He lit one candle, putting it on the nightstand by her bed, then left the room.

Review Responses and Bitty Note:

I just wanted to say thanks again. I love getting reviews… who doesn't? You guys make me check my email constantly at work! Still haven't gotten caught! Lol. Anyway, my note is this… if you read my review responses… I tend to drop not so subtle hints of what's to come. ;)

Also, if I didn't respond to anyone, I apologize… really needs to have reviews in order from top(first) to bottom(last)… would simple things up right quick for me! And did that make sense to anyone besides me? Hahaha.

**From Ch. 2**

Morrigan le Fay

Thanks! I may change the rating. I buckle under any sort of pressure. Lol. I hadn't thought of it much in the sense of others not reading it… and the point of posting is to be read. Maybe when I'm not lazy… ;)

LadyWillow

Hot E/C lovin'? Isn't his skin cold? Lol. (Btw, I'd keep an eye out for chapter 9 or 10 wink, wink)

tactics

I dunno… 10 chapters done and "Don Juan Triumphant" is not mentioned once. But… he does have strange writing habits… maybe he's been working on it behind my back!

synaesthesia

Naughty? Did I write that? No! I meant… knotty. There's a chapter just about… knots… the best type for lassos… yeah… that's it… lol

(Pssst… if you really wanna await the day… "the day" should be sometime around the end of next week or the beginning of the week after.)

Nicole Gruebel

Yes… if only I had been Monsieur Leroux! How differently the story would have gone... though I suspect it'd be more Disney than anything else…

Erik'sTrueAngel

I'm trying to make Christine a little more sensible and understanding… after all… he'd been her angel for years (movie-verse at least). A little lie is easy to forgive!

af881

I love you! Really I do! To call my work brilliant after seeing the unedited versions! And… you know I love UST. Now be nice to the others who don't get the chapters early like you!

neo-lover72

Thanks again!

LadyAmbrosine

You're in love with him?!?! He's miiiiine! Lol.

unknown

I'm glad you're enjoying it… but… unfortunately I'm going to disappoint... the chapters will get shorter for a while before getting longer again. I tried for at least 1,000 each chapter, but it didn't quite pan out that way. My muse is a tricky little thing. :

Mel

I'll try to update a.s.a.p. but between school and work… darn life… it may take longer to update than anyone would like. Erik's naughty behavior might come back to bite his cute little phantom butt… but Christine has proven herself to be very forgiving, I think. I love, love, love this movie! I've seen it twice too… gonna see it again Friday… help support its official opening. You know, it's funny… the last movie I've seen so many times in the theaters was "Batman Forever".

**From Ch. 3**

synaesthesia

You know, that part wasn't in my first draft… it came to me right before I sent it to my betas! And I love it! And if they haven't seen, I'll send the thanks to Sarah and Kelsey, too!

Erik'sTrueAngel

Joseph is a pain, isn't he? A pain in the neck! Hahahahaha… get it??? Sorry… I'm a geek.

LadyWillow

Patients is a virtue! Lol. Maybe I'll write a smut ficclet just to tide you over!

leonsalanna

Ugh! I know! Don't you just wish he'd drowned? Or Erik accidentally pulled just a little too hard on the Punjab lasso? Lol. You may wanna save your "yay's", though. Raoul's existence has yet to be decided!

af881

You are so good for my ego… which is like… 1,000,000 times bigger than it was before! Lol.

Bec

You know that old saying… "Be careful what you wish for…" hint, hint.


	5. 5

Part: 5/?

Disclaimer, Summary, Etc. can be found in part one.

Thanks: To my wonderful, beautiful… wonderful… tehe… beta's, Kelsey and Sarah. Love you guys!

Apology: I just wanted to say sorry for how long it's been since the last post. I've been using my free time to write like a madwoman. Chapter six should be within the next two days.

Christine slept with Erik's sweet song in her head. She woke humming it some hours later. She looked over to the small mantel clock, making out that it was still nighttime.

She sat up with a yawn, wincing as she realized she was still in her clothes, corset an all. She quickly undressed, putting a robe over her nightgown and leaving her room. She followed the sound of Erik's music.

She found him sitting at his organ, playing what sounded like a lullaby… a vast change from the violet, lust-filled music he usually composed.

She hummed quietly from where she stood a few feet from him.

Erik turned, looking up at her. He nodded once in her direction. She took that as an invitation, so she walked up directly behind him. He didn't stop playing, but he did falter when she put her hands on his shoulders. After a few moments, he continued, not hitting any more sour notes.

Christine watched him write and play in awe. He would stop every few keys to write what he'd just played. He seemed so passionate, so content. And it became apparent to her, after some time passed, that he'd seemed to forget she was there.

She rubbed her hands over his broad, firm shoulders. Although he looked tense as he played, he was surprisingly relaxed. She began humming softly along with his music when he began playing it from the top.

When he finished the song, he put his quill down and tilted the uncovered side of his face to her.

"That was beautiful, Erik."

Pink spread across his cheek at the compliment. "Thank you." He reached up, taking her hand in his. The action forced her closer to him. He held her hands over his chest. Christine pressed her head to his, allowing the intimate embrace.

"Could you not sleep?"

"Not comfortably in my clothes," she replied, "then I heard you playing. I can go… I don't wish to disturb you."

"You could never disturb me."

Christine shut her eyes, relishing the tremors that flitted through her at Erik's closeness and words.

The feelings that were stirred in her were foreign and new. Christine wasn't sure how to react. She knew by conventional standards, she shouldn't be dressed in so little around a man. In fact, she knew she should not be spending the night at his home without a chaperone, yet she did.

But, Erik was far from conventional, so conventional standards did not apply in the sanctity of the darkness of his home.

She knew she felt strongly for him. Perhaps even stronger than she'd ever felt when he was simply her secret and strange angel.

The heating of her blood, the yearning for what she knew not in her heart were all new. She felt so ridiculously young. Erik must be in his thirties at least. He would probably find it silly that she couldn't sort her feelings for him. And what must he feel for her?

Erik released her hands to begin a new song. It was a strange, seductive tune that made Christine's pulse quicken. Underneath her hand she could feel his heart beating fast and hard.

She rubbed her cheek against his silky hair and let her hands grip at the fabric of his shirt.

As he played his music, her thoughts fell on his mask. She knew something must lie underneath it, just what she did not know. It worried her for Erik. His face was surely the reason he lived underneath the Opera Populaire.

She'd almost asked Madame Giry about her relationship with Erik… how and why did she bring him to opera house? Something, which she herself could not put a finger on, held her back from doing so. Besides, the ballet mistress, though like a mother to her, kept to herself so much.

Erik himself had not seemed so keen on answering questions of his childhood. That one conversation of how'd he'd arrived at the opera was burned in her mind. The way he seemed to grow cold and angry. Not at all the kind, patient teacher he'd always been. She didn't want to see him like that again. Most importantly, she didn't want to dredge memories that might be painful to him up.

But her curiosity burned at her.

Maybe if he hadn't made such a big deal about not removing his mask. If he had only just shown her his face himself…

She just had to know.

She moved her hand up, slowly caressing his unmasked cheek. With the other, she quickly pried the white mask from his face.

Review Responses:

Thank you guys so much! But… ummm… I swear I'm not gonna make a habit of it, but I'll have review responses the next chapter! Just wanted to post this a.s.a.p. and I have to leave for work soonish. Sorry! Nate


	6. 6

Part: 6/?

Summary, Disclaimer, Etc. can be found in the first chapter.

Thank You: Forever and a day to Kelsey and Sarah, the most wonderful betas a gal can have!

Author Note: I should have chapter seven up Wednesday night/Thursday morning. Sorry! That's the soonest I can get it up… stupid work and school. Grrr. :) Oh! And Yea! to PotO for it's three Academy nods!

Erik had been so hypnotized by the feel of Christine's caress that he never once thought to be on guard.

He didn't even realize she'd taken his mask off until he'd heard her gasp and jerk away from him. When the cool air of his underground lair hit his face, he sprang from the bench, knocking it down. He whirled away from her and slapped a hand over the right side of his face.

"_Damn you!"_ he roared, glaring at her. She was curled on the floor. Her eyes were wide and filled with tears. Clutched to her chest was his mask.

"_You little prying Pandora! You little demon!"_ He crouched down in front of her, grasping her hands in one of his, pulling her up against him. _"This is what you wanted to see!"_

She shook her head, tears falling to the Persian rug underneath them. His own tears were falling; tears of hate and sadness and torment and anger.

Why did she have to see? Why couldn't she have left well enough alone?

"_Curse you! You little lying Delilah! You little viper!"_ Still holding her wrists, he gripped her chin with the other, forcing her to look at him. _"Now you cannot ever be free."_ Her eyes, which had been shut, opened fleetingly.

"_Damn you."_ He let go of her and stalked away. _"Curse you."_ He covered his face with his hand once again.

He sat down on the floor a few feet from her. His fingers felt the accursed deformation over the right side of his face. He felt the bones, the thin, leathery skin pulled taught over them, splotched yellowy green. He felt his face; the thing of nightmares to those who'd had the misfortune of seeing it. He felt the face which forced him to live in shadows.

He felt the face which his mother had loathed.

Now it would be the face that would forever keep Christine from loving him.

He tried to compose himself. He would have to get his mask back from her or get another from his collection. He took a couple of deep, shuddering breaths, willing his tears to stop.

It had been so long since he had actually cried. The last time had been in front of his mother.

He practically jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned a little to see Christine holding out his mask.

Tears coursed down her cheeks still and she was staring at him with mixture of pity and fear. Of course she would fear him. His hideous, deformed face, with its death like skin and hallowed out eye was something to be feared.

He took his mask and turned fully away from her, sliding it back on. It was a few minutes before he stood. She hadn't moved an inch.

"It's late. You need your rest," he said shortly, not looking at her as he walked around her.

His anger, though diminished, had not ebbed. In his show of anger at her betrayal, he snuffed the few candles in the room before leaving his angel in the darkness.

* * *

Erik lay in his coffin for sometime, listening to Christine's sobbing. It wasn't long before her sobs eventually tapered off and she fell asleep.

It had taken her sometime to get to her room after he'd left her. He had been tempted to go out and help her. Guilt at leaving her there ate at him. But his anger was stronger. Besides, if she couldn't bring herself to call for his assistance, why should he?

He'd taken some morphine, hoping it would help sleep come. The sweet drug could do nothing for the pain he felt in his heart.

"Christine," he sighed.

He wished he'd never shown himself to her. He could have used his abilities to make her forget, at least for a while, that she'd figured out he was a man and not the Angel of Music.

He could still feel her perfect hands roaming over his face and chest. A most bittersweet hand the fates had dealt him, to have that memory before she decided never to see him again, which no doubt would happen.

He'd told her she'd never be free, and it was true. He would love her forever. Those chains would bind her, even if she were a thousand miles away. Even after he died.

And die he would. Once his masterpiece was done, by nature or his own hand, he would die.

Her reaction made him remember. He'd forgotten during those past few dreamlike days. Her sweet attention and caring would be over now that she'd seen.

He would have no reason left to live if he had her fear and disgust.

Review Responses: Forgive my weirdness… I'm inna punchy mood. I have learned one important thing whilst writing this: Reviews are very, very bad for my ego (as in it's my head's getting bigger) and sanity (as in I'm getting crazier)… (well, that and you should never write smut at work… that leads to badness!) Lol.

Chapter Four

tactics

I'm glad I made your day! blushes

ThyLaSlain

blinks then backs away, frightened Don't hunt me down! It's wabbit season not writer's season. Lol.

Countess Alana

I hear charming Erik. Too bad it doesn't last. Heh.

Morrigan le Fay

I don't wanna rush their relationship, but I'm also trying to keep in mind she'd been there since she was what, seven? They've got about ten years already behind them. I'm glad you're liking Erik. I don't wanna water him too much from the real deal and he will have his moments. No one's perfect, after all. And you know, I hadn't even thought of his salary… hummmmm… ;)

(Note to your side note: I'm still working on ten in my notebook, but the other chapters have been beta'd. I just need time to go over their work and post. It'll be at least be one a day up till ten. It might be a while for that one!)

Erik'sTrueAngel

Maybe I shoulda called this "Erik's Very Bas, No Good, Horrible Day"? Lol. Second time he's been caught, poor boy!

Nicole Gruebel

I know I'd give anything to be put to bed like that! I'll have to settle for listening to the soundtrack. sighs sadly I really wanted to mirror the movie in this part as much as possible… sans freaky Christine-Dummy, of course! Haha!

Bec

Delicious? Delicious? Awesome! does a happy dance Thanks!

Mel

Nate's off in dreamland, thinking of Gerry shirtless… sorry! That was a nummy visual. I visit religiously. He is… beautiful. swoons

LadyAmbrosine

He is so mine! And I gotta warn you, I know ju-jitsu and I'm not afraid to use my fine, one semester learned skills! Lol. You know, I have read your fic.'s… love InuYasha! (I wrote some horrible Sess/Rin smut that'll never see the light of day!), but these things take time. They're not just gonna jump each others bones in a lusty haze… hummm… but that does sound like a nice prospect… hummmmm…

leonsalanna

No, no… that would make her sick. Though it would be funny. :)

neo-lover72

Okay, seriously, what is wrong with you people? He is mine. M-I-N-E. Mine. (I can spell, go me!) Lol. Glad I made your night!

af881

salutes Yes ma-am! I aim to please! I am so writing a fic. Just for you. Love you lots and lots!

jennifer

Thanks!

Lillith

Thanks!

Aleana

I will, I will. :)

Jjah-Jjah

Yay! Write some Phan Fic.'s. It's hard not to be inspired by that movie, isn't it? Especially Gerry and his dead sexy voice! Glad you like my little story that could!

funkypixiechick

I can totally understand that. When I say "fluffy" I basically mean minimal angst. I do get sugary at points, but I don't think I get cavity giving bad. Lol. Anyway, I'm glad you decided to give my fic. a look and hope you enjoy all I've got in store!

Rokimbo

Thanks! I hope I don't disappoint. I'm trying to keep things as honest as possible to the characters. Of course it's gonna be a shock, and well… you'll see… (wink, wink)

CharmedLeoLvr

Thanks! I'm glad you're enjoying it!

Chapter Five

Jjah-Jjah

I know, cliffies are evil. Was this soon enough to redeem myself?

Nicole Gruebel

I'm a baaaad, baaaad girl.

neo-lover72

Thanks!

Erik'sTrueAngel

I hope it'll be good! Lol.

CharmedLeoLvr

I try to not do cliffies… but they are a necessary evil in the world of writing.

confused

It will be R later on. Better safe than reported, I always say. Well, not really, but you get the idea.

draegon-fire

I'm glad you're reading and hope you're enjoying it half as much as I enjoy writing it. I worry lots about characterization. But I think without Raoul and learning the truth, Christine would have been able to handle it better than being the clingy, indecisive thing she was in the movie. And you know, I thought I had read every EC fic on , but I must have missed that one. Wonder how many more I missed. But hot damn that is a great fic! Had I known, I probably would have titled mine something else. But… oh well.

Rokimbo

Okay, okay. Quick enough? :)


	7. 7

Part: 7/?

Summary, Disclaimer, Etc, can be found in the first chapter.

Thanks: To Kelsey and Sarah for their super-beta-jobs! bows and kisses feet

Notes/Whine: First, before anyone asks, yes, I did tweak "The Mirror" lyrics just a tad to suit my purposes. :) Second, I'm home sick today. I'm dying and snotty and my throat hurts and I look scary! Lol. What does this mean for you??? Two chapters instead of one! Don't you love me???? wanders off to take drugs and sleep

Some days had passed since Christine betrayed Erik. "Il Muto's" rehearsals had gone swimmingly until Carlotta reappeared, demanding the role of Countess. Christine had been bumped to the Pageboy; the silent part. Not that it mattered much to her.

Her heart had not been in her singing since that day. He'd not come to her for lessons and Christine, as much she wanted to, dared not go down to his home.

He'd been so angry with her! Not that she blamed him. He'd told her to leave his mask be.

Damn her indeed! Her curiosity proved to be nothing but trouble.

And his face… oh… it was horrible. She hardly feared him for it, though how could she blame him for something entirely not his fault? At least she assumed that. She did not know what had happened to make his face so.

"Christine!" Meg bounded over excitedly. She was in her "Il Muto" costume as rehearsals had just ended. The first performance was due to start in a few short hours.

"It's horrible!"

"What is, Meg?"

"They've gone and done it! Oh, he'll be so angry!"

"Who? Meg, what on earth is the matter?" Christine gripped Megs arm, trying to steady and calm her.

"Box Five! Messieurs Firmin and Andre have rented Box Five for tonight's performance! The Opera Ghost's box! Something horrible is bound to happen tonight!"

"Erik…" Christine thought. He would be upset. What would his rage make him do? She wondered if he knew she'd been demoted. He'd spent so much time tailoring her voice for the Countess. Would he even care now?

More than ever, she felt she should go down below and try to speak with him, but guilt ate at her. How could she face him again?

* * *

"Il Muto" was going fine. Christine was nervously waiting for catastrophe to befall the play or La Carlotta. 

When she felt his voice resonate throughout the theater, she froze, feeling slightly sick.

"Did I not instruct that Box Five was to be kept empty?"

There were gasps all around. La Carlotta looked mightily annoyed at having her song interrupted.

"He's here. The Phantom of the Opera," Meg gasped.

"It's him…" Christine said, more to herself than anything. Her heart fluttered. She'd missed the sound of his voice… she'd missed him!

"Your part is silent, little toad!" Carlotta spanned, nearly slapping her with her fan.

Christine blushed, giving the diva an apologetic look, before going back to her mark. The opera was quickly resumed.

"_Poor fool, he makes me laugh! Ha-ha-ha--" _Then of all things to happen, Carlotta croaked. Anytime she would strive to sing the line, the hideous sound would come out.

The stage hands and many of the cast burst into laughter. The audience was roaring, thinking it was a part of the show. Poor Carlotta looked ready to burst into tears before she rushed off stage.

The curtains were quickly drawn. Messieurs Firmin and Andre announced that Christine would take of La Carlotta's role for the remainder of the performance. After twenty minutes of costume changes, confused dancers, mixed up musicians, and set problems, "Il Muto" continued with Christine in the lead and one of the ballet rats as the Pageboy.

The opera, naturally, went on without a hitch after Carlotta left the stage.

Christine was greatly applauded. Dozens of roses were thrown on stage and bouquet after bouquet filled her dressing room. Even more so then when she sang in Hannibal.

She was given so many compliments; it should have made her head spin. Unfortunately, the one person who mattered was no where to be seen or heard; even if that was his way. No enigmatic roses left with Madame Giry for her. No notes that he seemed so fond of writing. No coming to her mirror as he often did.

She sat there in her dressing room for some time after the performance, after all the excitement had died down and everyone began his or her normal nightly routines. She sat there staring at the mirror.

Wouldn't he come?

He'd been there. He must have been. Carlotta croaking was no coincidence. He must have heard the woman call her a little toad.

"_Angel! I beg you!_

_Speak - I'll listen… _

_stay by my side, guide me!_

_Angel, my soul was weak – _

_forgive me . . ._

_enter at last, Master!"_

Tears pricked her eyes. She wished he was on the other side, hearing her. Would it convince him to show himself?

"_Angel of Music!_

_Guide and guardian!_

_Grant to me your glory!_

_Angel of Music!_

_Hide no longer!_

_Come to me, strange_

_Angel…"_

She sat silently for a moment before the realization that it was in her hands to go down below and beg forgiveness, hit her. She grabbed the cloak he'd given her and put it on. She would beg, she would plead, and she would apologize. Hopefully, he would prove to be as forgiving as she had been when she learned the truth.

Just as she was to walk up to the mirror, she heard him. Relief filled her and she smiled.

"_I am your Angel… _

_Come to me: Angel of Music…" _

She rushed to the mirror and flicked the latch. It slid open, revealing Erik on the other side. He stood stiffly, dressed as ever in his formal attire.

"Erik." She fell to her knees in front of him, just on the threshold between his world and hers. "I'm sorry! Forgive me for being such child. Please, Erik, forgive me."

She started crying. She'd missed him so terribly. If he didn't forgive her, she didn't know what she would do. She clutched at his legs, like a child would, begging their parents not to leave them.

"Erik?" She lifted her tearstained face to look at him.

"Shhh." Finally he spoke, caressing her hair gently. "I forgive you. I forgive you…"

* * *

For all that he said he forgave her, he certainly didn't act it. He was distant and would only give her lessons once or twice a week. He never gave her the opportunity to say she wished to spend the night after those few lessons. He rarely asked her of her day's trails and tribulations as he had. 

She was losing weight and growing pale in her misery. The drastic change in her appearance was not lost on the managers, Madame Giry or Meg.

One evening, after a show, she and Meg overheard the two men speaking of her with Madame Giry.

"Perhaps she is not Prima Donna material… to be buckling so under the pressure." Monsieur Firmin said.

"Yes, yes. Once Carlotta's voice is healed, she will resume the lead…"

"Messieurs, you underestimate Mademoiselle Daaé. She is young. Once she adjusts to being in the limelight, once she grows confident in her abilities, she will regain her weight and pallor, I assure you."

"She had better! A skeletal diva is not the type of diva we want!"

Christine and Meg left for the dorms.

"Christine you have looked… different. Are you ill?"

"I… no… yes… perhaps. Meg…" Christine sat down on her bed. The dorms were empty. It was early still. "I'm terribly confused."

"Meg sat down next to her and took one of Christine's hands in hers. "You can tell me anything."

Christine thought back to Erik. She had promised she would tell no one of him. But… she would burst if she didn't tell someone; if she didn't get some guidance. "You mustn't tell anyone, Meg. Promise me."

"Of course I promise!"

Christine took a deep breath before telling Meg everything. From the first time Erik spoke to her as the "Angel of Music" to their latest, uncomfortable lesson.

Meg sat, wide eyed and silent once Christine was done. Christine laughed when she finally exclaimed, "That's so romantic!"

"I suppose it is. What do I do now? I've apologized. What more can I do? I miss the way things used to be."

"Heavens, I don't know. Perhaps you could buy him a gift? I can forgive and forget anything if I'm given a pretty enough gift. What does he like?"

"He has a vast collection of books. He, of course, loves music."

"And your voice," Meg giggled. "Perhaps we could find a song for you to sing him? Or try to write one. He'd be certain to appreciate that, wouldn't he?"

Christine shook her head. "He'd think it silly. He's a genius. Nothing I could come up with would do him justice anyhow."

Meg raised an eyebrow at Christine's tone. "How… how do you feel about him?"

Christine blushed. "I think… oh, I think I'm in love with him." And with those words, Christine felt a great weight lifted from her.

"Even despite his face?"

"That hardly matters. He's beautiful to me." Christine smirked suddenly, "And, you know, Meg, the half of his face that isn't scarred is very handsome!"

The two girls dissolved into giggles.

"Do you suppose he feels the same?"

"I… I hadn't thought of it. Maybe. It would explain a lot. But I can hardly go up to him and ask him if he loves me, now can I?"

"Why not?"

"What if he doesn't? I don't know what I would do if he…"

"Who is this man you speak of?" Both girls turned to see Madame Giry in the doorway, before nervously glancing at each other. She shut the door behind her as she entered.

"He is no one. Just a boy I met outside the opera…"

"Lying does not suit you." She stood in front of Christine, taking her chin in her hand and examining her face. "This does explain much. I had feared it would come to this. Christine, I must tell you, I have cared for Erik since he was a child. The same as I have cared for you. Despite this, you must be made aware of his true character. He is no angel. He is dangerous… and deadly if crossed."

Review Responses:

Jjah-Jjah

The chapters will get longer, I promise. But there may be more time between chapters. But, not too much, I hope.

Erik'sTrueAngel

I said this would be mostly fluffy… and mostly fluffy it will be. I promise! :)

sarah

The fluff will be coming soon! I'm glad you're lovin' it!

draegon-fire

Yeah, he did lose his temper. And you are right. winks I think our Phantom's ruined face is a thousand times better than Raoul's stupid face, so that's hardly an issue. But, all will be well, eventually. The course of true love… you know?


	8. 8

Part: 8/?

Disclaimer, Summary, etc. can be found in Chapter one.

Thanks: As always to Kelsey and Sarah for being great betas.

Joseph Buquet was a dishonest, dirty man. Erik had seen him over the years, forcing himself on the girls, drinking on the job. None of this had been Erik's business. He could care less what the man did to amuse himself.

When he saw the man peeking into the dorms, it became his business. Buquet had two peepholes, barely visible from inside the dorms themselves. However, if you peaked in from them, one had quite the view.

This only bothered Erik, naturally, because of Christine. Yes, he had seen her undress more times than he could count. But this filthy stagehand had no right to see his angel that way.

So Erik had covered the holes… dozens of times. Every time he covered them, Buquet made new ones.

And in all honesty, knowing the man was out for a night of drinking, Erik merely meant to cover the latest ones before he returned. He hadn't meant to overhear Christine and Meg Giry's conversation.

He was glad he did, though!

He'd wept when he'd heard Christine say she thought she was in love with him. He loved her for so long. To know his sentiments were returned was overwhelming.

He instantly regretted acting so horribly to her. He'd been punishing himself for blindly letting her that close and punishing her for her disobedient betrayal. He'd thought she was disgusted by his face, just like everyone else.

It didn't matter to her, though. She'd said so. She'd told the young Giry that her gasp and fear after removing his mask had been because of the look of fury that crossed his face, not the face itself.

His bliss was shattered when he'd seen Madame Giry enter the room and began warning his beloved of how dangerous he was. He respected her. She'd saved him from the hell of the circus. She'd taken care of him when he'd been ill. She stolen food and clothes for him. She put up with his Opera Ghost antics and was even the one who suggested he demand pay from the manager.

But he would, using any means needed, prevent her from revealing to Christine exactly who he was. He left Buquet's peepholes and stealthy made his way to one of the side entrances of the dorms.

Madame Giry was murmuring lowly, "Child, he is special, he is a genius. There is no doubt of that. At the same time, he has lived for years below the opera house. He knows nothing of the ways of the world. He knows no morals, for he can all too easily give valid reason his actions. He has…" She looked over at Meg, who had risen from the bed, backing away slowly, staring at him in wonder and fear.

She was pointed shakily, "It's the Phantom…"

Christine all but jumped from the bed, smiling brightly as she faced him. Madame Giry's warnings had, thankfully, been lost on her, or forgotten easily by his presence. "Erik," she sighed, as though his name was a most sacred prayer.

Madame Giry stiffened as she faced him. A look of mild guilt crossed her face. He had been her child the same as Christine, but she would never betray Christine to anyone as she was so ready to do to him.

"I wish to speak with Christine," he leveled a glare at Madame Giry. "Alone."

Madame Giry made to speak, but Meg rushed over, putting her hand on her mothers arm and tugged her towards the door. "Did you not want the dancers to rehearse again tonight, Maman?"

The older woman sighed, turning from Erik and Christine to leave, Meg trailing after, eyes fixed on Erik until the door closed after them.

He walked over to Christine. He stood no more than a foot from her. He could see it there in her shining eyes.

She loved him!

How would he bear such happiness, when all he'd ever known was misery?

"Christine," he took her hands in his, pulling her close. She looked confused, but happy to see him. "Is it true? Do you love me?"

She gasped. "You overheard Meg and me?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry!" She cried, suddenly. Those weren't quite the words he'd been expecting. Maybe an excuse for why she'd told Meg she loved him when it wasn't the truth. Or perhaps that she meant she loved him as a friend. "I know I promised not to tell, but I swear Meg will tell no one. I just…"

"Shhh." He brought a finger to her lips. "That doesn't matter. Do you truly think you love me?"

Christine looked away, suddenly nervous, then blushed when she looked back up at him. "I… I hardly know. I feel as if I am."

"Oh, Christine!" He lifted her hands, kissing them reverently. "Even despite my hideous face?"

"I believe," she cupped his face with her hands, "that when one is in love, they love the whole of a person. All of their positive and negative attributes."

Before Erik had the chance to respond beyond a meaningful look, Madame Giry reentered the dorms. "Quickly, you must leave. Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur Andre are on their way here."

Cursing his luck, Erik took her hands from his face and kissed them again. "I will be waiting for you."

"I will be there as soon as I can." Erik reluctantly let go of her and swept out of the room.

* * *

Christine was true to her word and came quicker than he'd expected. As it was, however, it was over an hour before she rushed into her dressing room. 

He'd been waiting behind the mirror, thinking of how quickly he'd gone from feeling dejection to elation in such a short amount of time.

He could tell during the few lessons he'd condescended to give her, that she was hurting just as much as he. He could hear it in her voice and see it in her wan face. But he couldn't bear the thought of her rejection so he pushed her away. He had no idea at the time how wrong he'd been.

Never in his wildest fantasies did Christine say she loved him. She'd succumb to him. Let him have her in that very swan bed she so trustingly and innocently slept in. She would let him feast on her glorious body as he longed to. But she'd never, ever uttered those three, little words.

He opened the mirror as she examined herself at her vanity's mirror. She looked at him nervously as he stepped inside.

"Come, my angel," he purred, holding open his arms.

With no hesitation, she rushed to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He held her tightly, breathing in her scent.

Christine was shivering. He wasn't sure if it was from the cold of the night, or something else. He drew his cloak around her.

"Do you love me?" She looked up at him expectantly.

"How could I not?" He lowered his head, feeling her breath on his face. She tilted her head up.

"Erik…" Her voice quivered. Desire was bright in her eyes and reflected his own as well. Before he could stop himself, he pressed his lips to hers, giving them both their first kiss.

Note: It will be some time before 9 or 10 are posted. I'm thinking Monday or Tuesday of next week. Why? I haven't finished 10 yet and it would be cruel of me to post 9 without at least having 10 off with my betas. I swear you'll thank me when you see what I have in store for 9. :) Nate

Begin Shameless Pimping: Okay, I have a ficclet I should be posting soonish. It's kind of sweet and fluffy and of course, E/C. End Shameless Pimping.


	9. 9

Part: 9?

Disclaimer, summary, etc, can be found in chapter one.

Thanks: To Kelsey and Sarah as always. You guys rock my socks… and all my other clothes too. Lol.

Apology: I'd like to apologize before hand… for what you might ask? Well… just… read… ;)

Christine was in a flurry of happiness. Since they'd admitted their love for each other, she and Erik were hardly apart. They'd shared no more than a handful of kisses, but the passion behind each was blinding.

Christine relished each gentle touch from his hand. Each caressed word of love or admiration he bestowed, which were frequent and many.

She had not his gift of eloquence, but she tried hard to express her feelings the same as he did. He seemed so uncertain, so afraid it was untrue, that it tore at her heart.

She wondered what misery he'd had to deal with as a child. He never told her. He told her many stories of how he'd built his home below the opera. How he'd left Paris to see the world. He told her of Persia and the one person she'd ever heard him refer to as a friend, the Daroga.

But never did he tell her of his childhood.

She knew Madame Giry had brought him to the opera house, but that was all he'd said. She wondered if he would tell her if she asked, now that they weren't student and teacher but…

Heavens, she didn't even know what they were! They were not lovers. She blushed at the thought. If he wished it, no doubt she would become his in every way. But he seemed so timid about simply kissing her.

But they were in love, and people who were in love kept no secrets from each other. At least, that's what she believed.

She resolved to ask him. Perhaps once he spoke of it, he could begin healing those emotional scars of the past he clung to and begin looking to the future. She smiled brightly. Their future!

* * *

Christine had just finished a grueling rehearsal when she rushed to her dressing room. She quickly undressed, changing into a simple blue dress. She cleaned her face of sweat and makeup. 

They'd been let go early and Christine was anxious to go down and surprise Erik. He was always so glad to see her and she needed some comfort after the verbal lashing Monsieur Reyer had given her for hitting a few off key notes.

Primping her hair, she smiled at her reflection. She looked much better than she had in a long time. Erik had reprimanded her for not eating as she should. She didn't bother to remind him that it was longing for him that made her lose her appetite.

She looked very much like a woman in love at any rate.

Meg admitted to being quite envious. From their one brief meeting, she found him as intriguing as Christine made him out to be. Giggling, she told Christine that she must be kind if another phantom decided to haunt the Opera Populaire, and let her have him.

Grabbing her cloak, she started to go to the mirror when her dressing room door opened. She whirled around to face a young man with honey colored hair. He smiled sweetly at her.

She glanced at the mirror nervously. "Can I help you, Monsieur?"

He frowned before speaking in a cultured tone. _"Little Lotte let her mind wander. Little Lotte thought: 'am I fonder of dolls or of goblins or shoes?'"_

"Raoul." She smiled fondly. The Vicomte Raoul de Chagny - the little boy that rescued her scarf from the sea. It had been many years since. What a coincidence to see him again!

"_Or of riddles or frocks?" _he continued, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to it.

"Those picnics in the attic..." Christine's thought wandered back on those days. That was almost right before her father died.

"_Or of chocolates?"_

"Father playing the violin," her smile faded. She tried not to think of her father too often. She seemed to miss him more than when he died sometimes.

"As we read to each other dark stories of the North."

"'_No, what I love best,' Lotte said,' is when I'm asleep in my bed, and the Angel of Music sings songs in my head.'"_ Her smile returned and her eyes brightened when she thought of her "Angel of Music".

_"The Angel of Music sings song in my head."_ He echoed the end of the children's story. He hugged her suddenly. Startled, she pulled from the embrace, ending it as quickly as it began. "I heard you last night. You sang like an angel."

"Thank you." She looked nervously at the clock. If she didn't go down soon, Erik would come up for her. She had no doubt that he would be less than thrilled at seeing some strange man in her dressing room.

"And now, we go to supper!"

"No, Raoul. The -" she fumbled to think of an excuse, "the managers are very strict."

"Well, I shan't keep you up late. Besides, Christine, don't you know, I'm the new Patron of the opera." He laughed arrogantly.

"Raoul, no," she snapped.

His laughter grated on her nerves. He looked her once over with his aristocratic eye, "you must change. I'll order my carriage. Two minutes, Little Lotte."

"No. Raoul, wait!" But he was already out the room. She bit her lip, debating what to do. She could just go down to Erik, but that would leave open too many questions. No. She would just have to wait for Raoul to return and tell him in no uncertain terms that she would not have supper with him.

"_Insolent boy!  
This slave of fashion,  
basking in your glory!  
Ignorant fool!  
This brave young suitor,  
sharing in my triumph!"_

The mirror opened and Erik stepped out. He shook with a fury she'd only seen once before; when she'd removed his mask.

"Erik! I was just about to go to you."

"Until the Vicomte arrived," he sneered. "He is a handsome boy, is he not?"

"What do I care of his looks?" She placed her hand on his chest, silently begging him to calm. "He's going to come back. I need to send him away, Erik, so he won't suspect anything of my disappearance."

"Yes. You wouldn't want him to know of your dark, dirty secret, would you?" He turned from her quickly, stalking trough the mirror and leaving her.

Torn, she looked between the door and the mirror. She would have to go after Erik, Raoul be damned. She would worry about any questions he might have later.

Taking her cloak, she went through the mirror. It was dark. She'd not taken a lamp or candle and she could hardly see. She moved her hands, blindly searching for the walls, but came in contact with something soft and moving.

"Erik?"

His hand snatched her wrist roughly and he pulled her along. It was lit at the waters edge. He was still angry, that much she could tell. His face was set in a grim scowl and his eyes seemed to burn.

He pushed her into the boat. She felt tears start to well as she sat there. She'd never wanted to see him so again. As he docked the boat, she climbed out and rushed to her room, not wanting him to see her cry.

Where had her gentle love gone? Why couldn't he listen to reason? Didn't he know she cold never think of another man because he consumed her so wholly?

He stalked in after a few moments. He walked right up to her, slid his hand along her face before running it through her hair. His fingers curled shut and he yanked hard at her hair.

Review Responses:

First, I know, I know! I'm evil. I hate cliffhangers, I do. That's why I apologized beforehand. But I did warn you when I posted last, didn't I? I do have 10 with my betas. I will post it as soon as I get it back… so… yeah…

Nicole Gruebel  
Thanks. I wanted it to be fluff and I got cottony candy fluff. :) I'm glad you like my E/C.

neo-lover72  
(joins the dance party) I think this is second best chapter ever! Best…well… hasn't been posted yet. (wink, wink)

Erik'sTrueAngel  
Of course he has to cover the holes! Lol… only he gets to check out the merchandise before… buying… (blinks) sorry… that was lame…

Countess Alana  
Thanks!

CharmedLeoLvr  
(starts singing "Isn't It Romantic?") I'm glad you're enjoying it.

Melissa  
Me! Me! Me! Love me more!... though that darn Phantom is hard to resists… lol.

draegon-fire  
Awww… she wasn't upset. She just gets all shivery because of Erik's wonderful hotness. :)

All Apologies  
Thanks!

Cheshire Kit  
(giggles) Okay!

af881  
You love this… I love this… it's a love fest… "Phan-Love-Fest '05"… like Woodstock but without the nakedness and mud (or price gouging of '99).

Phantom's Fallen Angel  
Noooo! Don't die! But… if you must… can I have your Erik plushie? Lol!


	10. 10

Part: 10? (Or as I keep referring to it as... The Money Shot, haha!)

Summary, Disclaimer, Etc, can be found in chapter one.

Thanks: To Kelsey and Sarah for beta-ing.

Authors Note/Apology: This ISN'T the last chapter. There are about five more to go, I think. But I won't be updating until I catch up on school work and complete my Spuffy Ficathon assignment. Sorry! I'm thinking the next part will be up around Valentine's Day… a gift from me to you, yeah? ;)

"You belong to me," Erik growled, still clutching Christine's hair tightly.

"I do," she whimpered. "Have I ever denied you?"

"You are not to see that boy again! Ever!"

"Erik," she sobbed, trying to get him to release her hair with no avail. He was far stronger than she was, after all.

"You would disobey me, then?"

"You're hurting me!"

"And I am not hurt?" He let go of her and paced the room. He was trying to control his anger, but he couldn't. All he could see was the Vicomte de Chagny holding Christine and looking at her with love in his eyes… his perfect eyes and perfect face. "Did I not see your face light up at the sight of him, 'Lotte'?"

"I have not seen Raoul in many years, Erik. Not since I was a child. So many years have passed." Erik looked down at her tearstained face with a twinge of shame. "I love you, Erik. I could never love another as I do you."

Erik softened at her words. He took the wrist that he'd so cruelly tugged on and kissed the faint bruising that formed already. He then lifted his hand and tentatively touched the skin exposed at the top of her dress, feeling the softness of her heaving chest.

"Prove yourself," he whispered.

She shook physically, but answered with confidence. "I will do anything… anything." She wiped her face free of tears.

He slid his hands around her back and began unbuttoning her dress. Madness, he was certain, was driving him to this course of action. He pushed the gown off her shoulders, watching it fall to the floor.

"It would do no one any good for you to faint now because you cannot breathe," he tsked, noticing her breathing restricted by her tight corset. He moved around her, attempting to undo the laces before he lost his patience and ripped them.

He pulled her to his chest and kissed her neck lightly. She tasted of heaven. Tilting her head just so, he kissed her forcefully. The madness kept driving him.

Just as she started to turn in his arms to kiss him fully, he pulled away. The desire coursing through him was too much. He took a deep breath and willed his body to calm. He didn't want to take her roughly.

Her eyes were glazed over and she brought a hand to her swollen lips. Erik sat on the edge of her bed. Her eyes widened at that.

"Come, Christine," his voice thick with lust, "you swore to do anything to prove your love for me."

"I did." She nodded, moving to the bed. She stood in front of him, her hands shaking as she unbuttoned his coat and took it off. She threw it down atop her dress. She hesitated a moment after, then proceeded to unbutton his white shirt.

She pulled it from the waistband of his pants, but didn't remove it. She looked at him nervously. "Erik, I…" she raised her hand to his face… to his mask.

His head jerked back. "Christine…" he said in a low, warning tone.

"If I am to be bare before you, it is only fair you are bare as well." She gently pried the mask from his face, tossing it disdainfully to the ground. She looked back at him, smiling. "There."

She caressed the ruined side of his face before taking his shirt off and tossing that as well. She ghosted her hands over his chest. She knelt down in front of him to remove his shoes, then sat back, too nervous to remove the final piece of clothing.

Erik motioned for her to stand. She did so, trembling. "Remove those."

Christine's eyes never left his as she stood to remove the few remaining pieces of clothing from her delicate frame. Fear was heavily present on her face as was the gentle quivering of her lips, but she remained calm otherwise.

Tears filled Erik's eyes and a sense of wonder washed over him as she stood exposed before him. She was beauty defined. She was so close, all he had to do was stretch his arm and he could grip her soft, untouched flesh.

"I love you," she shyly whispered.

He nodded, unable to respond verbally or tear his eyes from her glorious body. He was unsure of what to do now that they were so glaringly past the point of no return. His arousal burned at him. He'd never felt such exquisite pain. He'd been aroused and had exploded with blessed relief, but nothing, nothing compared to this feeling coursing its way through his body.

He took a shuddering breath before he pulled her to lie on the bed. She shifted nervously as he looked his fill of her. She turned her head, embarrassed. Erik smiled, taking her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him.

"You are truly perfect, Christine." Her cheeks were red and there were unshed tears in her eyes. He pressed several kisses to her forehead, cheeks; to her nose and mouth.

He forced her mouth open under his insistent lips. Her breath was cool and sweet, mingling with his hot one. He tentatively slid his tongue out of his mouth and into hers, never having dared to kiss her so boldly in the past few days.

As their tongues danced in a delicious tango, he lifted his hands, softly running them over her creamy skin. He ran them over her neck, down her shoulders, skimming along the sides of her breasts, down her taut belly, across the soft curve of her hips and down her thighs to her knees and back up again.

She gasped a sweet sound when he kissed the hollow of her throat. He kissed back up her jaw and captured her lips. She wrapped her hands in his hair, pulling him closer. They both shuddered as his body pressed hers into the mattress, the only thing between them his trousers.

He feared he'd disappoint her as she began to ease and grow warm under his touch. He was as innocent as she in this. Well, that was not entirely true. He'd read of relations between men and women. He'd seen couplings many a time during his wanderings in the opera house.

He broke the kiss, surprised at her expression of anxious desire when he looked down at her. Cautiously he let his hands roam her body again, but slower. He was in awe as she arched into his touch.

He gently caressed her breasts. "Erik," she whimpered as he rolled her nipples in his fingers. "You torture me."

"That was not my intent." He lowered his head, kissing the rosy peaks and laving his tongue over them.

She sighed heavily, holding his head as he suckled at her. Her heart beat furiously against her chest. He could feel the palpitations under his hands and mouth.

He slid his body over hers, settling himself between her thighs. Through his trousers he could feel the wetness of her core.

He lowered a shaking hand from her breast to unfasten his last bit of clothing. Christine released his hair and her hands careened down his back, tugging the waistband down his hips. He had to move from her to remove them completely.

She gasped, taking in his naked form with widely innocent eyes.

Guilt battled with Erik's lust for her. She was offering herself to him. Yet, in a way he had forced her to this point. How could he do this? How could he fill her angelic body with his demon one; with his demon seed?

She laid there, flushed, arms open for him to rejoin her. Her skin glistened in the candlelight; a slight sheen of sweet coated her skin.

He shook his head. He couldn't. He wouldn't. He turned away from her, sitting once again on the edge of the bed, cradling his head in his hands. He felt the bed shift behind him. Christine wrapped her arms around him and she pressed her cheek to his scarred back.

How could she bare touching him? He didn't even like touching himself. He looked at himself but rarely, and yet she looked at him as though he were the handsomest creature, not the most hideous.

"What's wrong?" He could hear confusion and rejection in her voice.

"Go," he sighed. "Go to your boy. Leave me, Christine. Never return."

Her tears scorched his back as they fell. "Are you mad? I love you. I give myself to you: heart, soul, mind," she embraced him tighter, "and body. I would cease to live without you."

"You deserve better than this… this loathsome carcass…"

"I would give anything to be able to go back in time and shelter you from all that you have suffered." She pressed her lips to his shoulder. "But I cannot. All I can do now is love you. Let me, Erik. Please let me show you that you are not alone. Not anymore."

She leaned across him to kiss the defect that was the right side of his face. "Love me, Erik. Love me…"

He drew her around, holding her in his lap. "I'm sorry," he whispered, burying his face in the soft curls of her hair.

* * *

He wanted to learn every inch of her body. He wanted to feel the softness of her skin with his hands and lips; taste her with his tongue. He wanted to take her to heights of pleasure she'd never dreamt could exist.

Unfortunately all he could think of was the blinding need to join his flesh with hers. Dear, sweet, wonderful thing his beloved was, she seemed to understand that.

She lay under him, her arms around his shoulders and her legs on either side of his body. She would whimper and thrust herself against him every time his hard length came into contact with her sex.

Her nails bit into the skin of his back as his hand brushed against her wet opening. He idly wondered if that would scar. They'd certainly be the only welcome scars on his body!

He gripped himself, shutting his eyes at the brief relief holding the hot, throbbing skin brought. He let instinct guide him as he moved to her center. Liquid seeped from her, dripping onto the finger he gently prodded her with.

Kissing her, he slid inside slowly. She was tense and so tiny to begin with, entrance was very difficult. There was so much resistance, Erik worried some. He knew men and women had been procreating for thousands of years, but she was so small. He hadn't even begun to put his length in her, just the tip. How would he get it all in without hurting her?

Well, he knew it would hurt. There was no avoiding that. She was a virgin. Their first coupling would bring her pain and probably no pleasure. He'd read of the hymen and how painful it would be for the woman after it tore. But he had hoped to keep the pain to a minimum.

The soft, wet flesh of her insides gripped him tightly every agonizing inch he pushed into her. He broke their kiss to look down at her. Her eyes were wide and she was panting.

When he hit her barrier, she flinched. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his forehead to hers. "I… this will hurt."

"I know… it will be fine." She looked into his eyes bravely, pushing her hips up to slap against his, effectively ending her virginity in one quick thrust.

The pain made her whole body tense and her muscles clamped hard around him. She let out a sharp, startled cry. He groaned, falling against her. He dared not move, fearing it would bring her more hurt. And… the warmth that encompassed him shook him deeply. The fire that had started in his belly seemed to move throughout his blood, making him tingle with anticipation.

Tears fell down her cheeks as she struggled to adjust and relax. She moved under him, bringing him glorious pain, but still he would not move until she gave him leave to. He briefly considered hypnotizing her so she would forget the pain, but she would most likely be angry if she found out.

All the passion that had been in her eyes earlier was gone and she would not stop crying. Oh, what a beast he was! It must have hurt her terribly and all he could think of was his selfish need. He hadn't even given her pleasure before hand.

"Forgive me." His own ardor had cooled and he started to pull out of her, carefully making certain to not hurt her any further. He was nothing but a monster that brought pain and misery to those he cared for; his mother, the Daroga and now his little songbird.

"Don't!" She cried, tentatively wrapping her legs around his waist, drawing him back in. "Please, Erik. I was… shocked. I hardly knew what to expect. The pain is subsiding. Don't leave." She grabbed at his hair, drawing his head down to kiss him.

He allowed his body to press against hers again as he returned her kiss. He shut his eyes, relishing the feel of her hot, inner walls fluttering ever so slightly against him with each move she made. Her ankles were locked behind him, her little dancer's feet pressing against his rear.

"Oh, Christine," he groaned, moving his hips and pulling out before pressing back against her. Her eyes rounded as he rotated his groin against hers.

He laid his head in the crook of her neck as he slowly moved within her. He could tell he wasn't going to last long. He could feel himself tighten with the most heavenly tension as her juices escaped from where they joined to dribble down their tights and onto the sheets.

She gripped him tightly as her voice began to rise from gasps of pain to heady, low moans of need. He grinned. His soprano could hit a lower range than he imagined after all!

Their voices mingled together, bouncing off the walls; his grunts and her cries of his name. He thrust faster and quicker in her, feeling his release would come soon… he only hoped to take her with him.

He thrust a handful of times more before he felt her clench and let out a long cry. He followed suddenly, his seed spilling into her. He continued to move shallowly as he emptied years of yearning into her before he collapsed atop her, spent.

He sighed, wanting to cry and laugh all at once. "I love you… Christine… I love you."

Review Responses:

Nicole Gruebel

I know, I'm evil. But, he would never hurt Christine! I don't think he pulled her hair that hard! Lol.

Phantom's Fallen Angel

hugs Erik plushie Thank you! I'm glad my angry Erik is to your liking! I don't mind Raoul… but his laughter in the movie bothered me to no end. Every time I hear it… I wanna throw something at him. P.s. I hope you didn't die waiting for this!

Erik'sTrueAngel

grins Yea! I managed to pull the wool over your eyes. Go me!

Jjah-Jjah

I needed Raoul here for one purpose… to get E/C to have sex. Lol. He won't be in it much anymore (at least in an antagonist way)… I think. Now stop convulsing… I never took first aid… I don't know what to do!

almstfms

shakes head Bad girl! I thought I told you to be nice to my readers? Lol.

neo-lover72

Sorry. But a week later is better than not at all… right? makes puppy dog face Right?

Bec

Naughty girl! I almost fell out of my chair at work when I read that!

Eilianu

With a Spork? OMG… that would be a hilarious fic… Phan-girls stabbing Raoul with sporks. Hahahaha. Anyway, I'm glad you like this and thanks for adding me to your fav.'s!

CharmedLeoLvr

Love is a funny thing… women marry serial killers all the time, don't they? winks

angelofmusic45

Tehe… I'm so evil… but this made up for it, no?

White Silk Ribbon

Okay, okay. Lol. I updated as soon as I had time. sighs dreamily If only I could write fic.'s for a living… stupid time consuming work!


	11. 11

Part: 11?

Thanks: To Sarah for her awesome beta-job!

Note: Go read and review "Phantom MSTings" by K-Chan. She is awesome and funny and most importantly, she MSTed T and T! (winks) The links in my profile. I hate that you can't put links here! Gah!

Christine's eyes fluttered open when she felt something wet trailing across her thighs. She had been in the most relaxed sleep of her entire life and was somewhat loathed to wake.

When she saw Erik crouched between her legs, all desire to sleep left. She rose up on her elbows to look down at him. He had a cloth in his hand, wiping at her thighs. She frowned. "Erik?"

He tossed the rag to the nightstand. "There," he said, looking down, ashamed, "was blood."

Christine nodded, blushing. She then moved from under him and shut her legs. They'd just shared the most magical, intimate thing any two people could share, but she'd never felt more ill at ease around him.

Though she wanted to reassure him, her discomfort would not allow her to do anything... and the reaction on his face when she'd moved away made her stomach twist into uncomfortable knots.

She reached down to pull the sheets over her body, but he grabbed them from her. He sat beside her, one hand moved to possessively clutch at her thigh. "Christine?" Every time he said her name, it sent tremors though her. He looked so worried. Christine reached out, putting her hand on his chest. He drew in a sharp breath. "You don't regret what happened earlier, do you?"

"No!" She shifted, sitting on her knees to face him, putting her other hand on his shoulder to brace herself. "Erik, please do not think that. This has been the most wonderful night of my life. I shall cherish the memory of today forever."

A sense of weakness seemed to flow through her limbs and her hands fell uselessly to her sides when Erik ran his fingertips across her face. Her eyes fluttered shut. He shifted closer, his lips touching all that his fingers did. Gentle fingers and even gentler mouth on her eyelids, the tip of her nose and fleetingly across her lower lip.

Daringly, she flicked her tongue out, tasting the salty skin just as it was to continue its torturous path. Opening her eyes, she smiled up at him, pressing an airy kiss to the digit. Briefly glancing down, she saw his manhood; that hard, hot, throbbing flesh that had been so snug and filling within her. It had been painful beyond her imagination, yet at the same time she'd never believed such pleasure could exist.

It had been Heaven! It made her understand why so many in the dorms would sneak off to meet with their lovers. Christine had thought it all so immoral, and she still felt as though it were. The girls scarcely ever loved the men they gave their bodies to.

Christine loved Erik more than more than she could bear. Giving him her body was the last bit of her she'd needed to give him. She was his completely; to do with what he wished. As he had earlier...

She blushed, the delicious memories making her uncomfortably wet. She moved, trying to will the ache building at the juncture between her legs, away.

"Why do you blush?" He asked as he continued his exploration. His kisses seemed to linger on birthmarks ad what few, small and faded scars she'd managed to retain from her childhood playing and dancing mishaps. "Surely you cannot still be shy."

"I am hardly accustomed, Monsieur, to sitting nude in from of anyone," she chided even as she moved closer when he tugged at her nipple. He chuckled against her skin.

"Neither am I, yet you do not see me blushing."

She wrapped her arms around him, shuddering as their bodies pressed against the others. His body was lean and hard; his hands holding onto her greedily were trapped between their bodies.

"You did mere hours ago," she nuzzled her face against his. She pressed her lips to both his cheeks. "What could I possibly do to make you blush again?"

"I imagine it would take quite a bit, my dear," his voice was hoarse and almost broken. She pressed herself tighter against him, rolling her hips against his, delighted at the cry he gave.

She made as if to kiss him, his lips expecting hers, but, with a giggle, she ducked her head, kissing along his chin, as he had done before. Turnabout was only fair play, wasn't it? He had the opportunity to taste her, to touch her, to learn and explore her, regardless of how short lived his exploration was. She was curious too.

She licked down his throat, loving the salty taste. His breathing became ragged and he grabbed at her hair. She looked at him, his eyes were shut tightly, his face flushed. She smiled, nipping at his neck. He was not blushing, but the effect was the same.

She thought of the girls, particularly the two Messieurs Firmin and Andre had taken a liking to. They often spoke of marks they needed to hide. Love bites, they were called. She sucked on Erik's skin, delighted when she pulled away to see it was fairly glowing red. Yes, that would leave a lovely mark.

"Oh, Christine, it is too much," He groaned, shaking so badly he released her, lying back against the bed. Christine's confidence left her as she stared down at him. He rubbed his hands over his face. His body was a lovely, pale gold in the dim candlelight. His manhood jutted from his body, just begging to be touched, to be once again within her.

"What is too much?" She asked, not recognizing the thickness in her own voice.

"This... you..." He sighed. "Too much pleasure. Too much need. I fear that once you return above, I will die from not being able to have you."

Her heart wrenched; she was becoming quite accustomed to the feeling. He broke her heart so, sometimes, with his words. How could he have lived without love? Trapped in the darkness of the opera house and his mind? "I will be suffering the same as you, but you will not die, for it would kill me when I return to you. And I will. I promise, I will always return to you. Our reunions will be all the more sweet, won't they, for all our suffering?"

He reached out, grabbing her hand and holding it over his heart. "I die more every moment you are not here."

"I am, Erik. I am always here." She tapped her fingers against his chest. "My love is yours to safeguard. When I am not physically here, it is."

She leaned down, her mouth meeting his. She tried to show him through her actions all that her words seemed to fail to say. He opened his mouth, his tongue sliding against her lips, begging for entrance. She sucked it into her mouth, flicking at it with her own.

She pulled back, gasping for air. Erik tried to draw her down once again, but she resisted. She sat back, running her hands over his chest. There were scars all over; marring what otherwise would have been dark, sculpted beauty. She ran her fingers over the scars and the coarse, dark hair that dusted his chest. She pressed her lips to the worst of the scars, wishing her touch could erase them and the memories that scarred his mind and soul.

Quite innocently and unaware if it would affect him the same way as it had her, she kissed his dark nipples. His eyes widened in shock. She played with it as he had with his lips and tongue, then did the same with the other. Erik was moaning, clutching her hair and the bedclothes tightly.

She nervously looked down, her hand rising to touch the flesh that looked deep purple in the darkness. The skin jumped when her little fingers curled around it. Erik let out a noise that sounded like a growl. She would have thought him in pain if not for the fact that he'd made sounds like that when he'd been sheathed inside her.

She was fascinated. The skin was hard, but so soft. Deep veins bulged from it, and she could hardly stop herself from tracing them with the tip of her nail. Erik shuddered, pushing his hips up. He had a desperate, pained look on his face, but said nothing. From the tip, which was large, the skin softer than anywhere else, beads of creamy, white liquid formed and dripped down.

She pressed her finger against the place where the liquid came from. "Christine, please," Erik groaned. He reached down, pulling her to lie beside him before swiftly moving atop her. He was shaking and sweating as he spoke, "you know not the madness your touch brings me to."

She laughed as he slid himself against her opening. "Oh, but I am familiar with it. You tortured me, or do you forget?"

He smiled, his lips not able to form a complete smile, giving him a devilish, rakish appearance. "How could I?"

He was gentle as he pushed into her. She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his neck so he would not see the discomfort on her face. She loved him and the excitement and feel of him inside her, but there was a soreness she feared would take some days to fully leave.

Once he was inside her and began moving, the irritation left. Wrapped in each other, they moved faster and faster. Christine felt the burning well inside and knew sweet relief was near. If at all possible, he seemed to become harder inside her. His mouth was everywhere he could reach, kissing, sucking... biting. It seemed he was intent on leaving his mark as she had.

His breath scorched her skin as he moved to her mouth, kissing her so hard her lips felt bruised. He grabbed her legs, forcing them up some and tight against his body. The action pushed him deeper into her.

Her grunted her name and sweet words of love and need into her mouth. Each downward stroke pressed against the tiny nub between her legs, the secret place she'd only dared touch once. Her mouth opened in a silent cry as she felt her very soul rocketed over the precipice. As tremors racked her, she felt Erik's hot, sticky release wash deep inside; filling her.

She felt dizzy, little specks of light dancing across her eyes. She swore she could see beyond the stars all the way to Heaven. Of course she would see it. Her beloved was an angel, after all.

As with the first time, he collapsed against her. He stroked her legs lazily, reverently. Christine kissed the top of the right side of his head; the poor, bumpy, hairless skin, red from years of being covered not only with the mask and wig, but with whatever glue Erik used to keep them on. She caressed the thin wisps as well as the thicker hair on the other half of his head.

Slowly, he pulled out of her, their sweat-slicked bodies sliding from the others easily. He rolled off her to lie on his back. He tugged her arms, drawing her to his side. Christine curled against him, feeling content.

He caressed and pet her, murmuring how he loved her over and over. Christine returned his caresses, sliding her legs against his. "I love you, too," she replied to his words. They felt inadequate, regardless of how true they were. There was such passion and fire backing his well crafted words. "Oh, how I love you, Erik."

He glanced at her. "Do you truly?"

He could have struck her and it would have hurt less. "You still doubt me?"

"No!" Instead of pulling her close, reassuring her that he knew she loved him without doubt, he left the bed, putting his trousers back on.

"Erik?" She felt her heart begin to break. How could she feel so blissful just moments before and now so wretched?

He paused, returning to kiss her forehead. "I will be but a moment." Then he was gone from the room.

Christine sat up, drawing the sheets up her body. She felt so tiny in the huge swan bed all by herself. Relief spread when he rushed back into the room and rejoined her on the bed, taking one of her hands in his. He held something tightly within the other.

"Forgive me, I meant not to worry you." He peppered her face with kisses. Less upset and more curious, she smiled slightly. Erik looked at her before looking down at their joined hands. "I..." He cleared his throat, "I love you, Christine. You have given me more than I have ever had... more than I deserve simply by being here and loving me." She cupped his cheek with her free hand, trying to make him look at her. He resisted, so she tilted her head down until she met his turbulent green eyes. "I am a selfish man, for I hardly deserve you but I will not let you go. I treated you horribly last night, yet you still gave yourself to me."

He lifted her hand and kissed it. "I've nothing to offer you but this hideous face and my world of darkness. I'm... I'm a villain, Christine. I have done many things I should like you to never know of. I have a terrible temper; anger and hate the only emotions I've ever received from anyone but you and a small number of others. Madame Giry, much as I loathe admitting it, was right in trying to warn you. I have lived so long alone I know not how to act."

"This all hardly matters to me, Erik. I love you."

"I know." He nodded, slowly opening his palm. There lay a small gold ring with a diamond glistening and making rainbows from the few, flickering lights. "Christine, my most beloved, would you accept this as you have me, and agree to become my wife?"

Christine started crying, overcome. She had not expected him to ask for her hand. She wanted to shout "yes" so those above in the opera house could hear her. But all she could do was sit there dumbly and cry, clasping her hand over her mouth.

After some time, Christine managed to compose herself and wipe her tears. She looked at Erik, who looked as she must have when he questioned her; completely heartbroken. He'd let go of her and was practically glaring at the sparkling ring in his hand.

"Please, forget I ever..." he shook his head, moving to leave the bed.

"Erik!" She found her voice as she grabbed at his arm. The sheet fell from her as she pulled him to the middle of the bed. "Erik," she said again, crawling onto his lap, holding him tight. "My answer is yes."

He was speechless, staring at her with wonder-filled eyes. "You will?" He choked out finally.

She nodded. "Yes! I will marry you!" A smile slowly spread; a pure, happy smile. It lit his face, making him just that much more beautiful in her eyes. He kissed her with fervor, moving so she lay happily trapped between him and the headboard. She smiled against his sweet, joyful kisses.

When he finally pulled away, he wiped at her tears, then his own. He plucked the ring from where it'd fallen onto the sheets before lovingly sliding it on her finger. He smiled softly, kissing the ring and the finger which it sat.

Review Responses and Authors (lengthy) Notes: First, I'm sorry for how long it's been. I really meant to have it done by V-Day. That said... I make no promises of when the next chapter will be up. This chapter was meant to have more plot to it than it did... my muse wanted smut and fluff and she got it, damnit. So things need to be worked out and tweaked, direction-wise. I will type it a.s.a.p. If there's no smut, I should have it up soon... writing smut takes me forever and throws me off my groove. Though I am rather proud of the past two chapters. (grins) But so you know, I posted a teaser of this chapter on my lj... and may do the same with whatever chapters left if they're going to take me more time to get out. The link's in my profile. -Nate-

Nicole Gruebel  
Nope, not last chapter... and with the rate I'm going there may be more than the five more I said. Tehe. I totally worried about making Erik believable, but redeemable after the kinda sorta forced almost nookie. :)

Phantom's Fallen Angel  
Oh no! Better keep your Erik plushie under the bed for this chapter... and possibly the next. (winks) Maybe you should get a Christine plushie to lure him out with... I think that'd work better than stinky old Russian tea. (grins evilly) I'm like heroin. Yay!

FunkyPixieChick  
I'm evil, but I'm not that evil! I didn't want poor Erik to be denied anymore that he'd already been. Besides, they had to get it on... I was getting tired of their UST! Lmao.

Eilianu  
thinks of starting side business of phantom sex toys Bad girl! Got my mind in the gutter (like it wasn't already there!)

Bec  
Riiight. Sure, I believe you... you're as innocent as I am... (winks) lol.

Erik'sTrueAngel  
Yeah... the buildup was fun, but man was the releasing of tension so much more fun!

GabreilsGirl  
Okies :)

almstfms  
Ahhh! Don't hurt me! Lol. Fine... don't be nice. You make me giggle and I heart you so that totally makes up for it!

Orion Maxwell  
Awwww... Thanks! Wow! Since you were three? I've only loved him for six or seven years. I know if I was Christine I would have punjabed that stupid fop myself. His love was nothing compared to Erik's. (sigh)

Lioness-Rampant  
OMG. How long did it take you? (faints( Yeah, Raoul grates on my nerves to no end, but, yeah... NOOOOOOKIE. Tehe. (whispers) have you seen "Mrs. Brown"... and Gerry's lack of clothes in it (swoons)... totally inspirational. Thanks for adding me to your favs!

neo-lover72  
Lol. Hope you didna get in trouble! ;)

missy.witch  
Yay! I'm loved AND I rock! (does a happy dance) Raoul was an idiot and arrogant arsehole... so writing him that way was easy! lol. OMG... I wanna see the movie again too (for the 6th time!).

CharmedLeoLvr  
Awe, but Erik is bad and mean. What girl can resist a bad boy? Hummm? But, yeah, his inner puppy won in the end. :) I'm glad you liked the nookie part! I wrote it three times/ways before writing the version you see! It was damn hard making it smutty but... well, not.

Lady Vendea  
Thanks! I'm glad you're liking it! And... you're welcome! If only I had been that wacky Frenchman... poor Erik would've gotten lotsa love! (winks)

Melissa  
(jumps, tackling Melissa, hugging her) You know, I can't listen to PotO without hearing in my mind "Cum for me!"... so, you are totally not the only psychotic one here!

Brit  
Awww! Thanks! I'm glad you liked. I tried to make it as innocent as they were and not all gross and hot 'n heavy.

Angel's Angel Of Music  
Merci beau, ma petite!... and that's all I remember from my one semester of French. Lol. I was so giggly when I read that you skipped school to read my story! Tehe.

p.s. sorry it didn't get posted on V-Day. :(

Quiet2885  
Don't go mad! Well... a little madness never hurt anyone, right?

draegon-fire  
I know! I think I'd settle for being the sheets! Lmao. Next chapters just more smut... hehe... the plot should resume in chapter 12, though.

lauren  
I know, I know! It's been forever! I'm sorry. Mmmmm... Erik on top... on bottom... I'll take him any way!

Marlena  
You know, you can stop acting like I didn't send you here to review me using the promise of Will Smith RPF! Tehehe. Go read the rest of my smut and review it... I'll love you forever... and I swear I'll find those pictures... you know... THOSE pictures! (hint, hint, nudge, nudge)


	12. 12

Part: 12?

Thanks: To Sarah for her ever awesome beta-ing.

Don Juan does indeed triumph, Erik thought, watching his fiancée sleeping peacefully. His fiancée! She was curled against him, her sweet face pressed against his chest... right over his heart. Her left arm was draped across his middle. He lifted her hand, pleased with how well the ring looked there.

Madeline had never worn it. At least she never had in front of him. Sneaking into her room once when he was four, he'd seen it, stuffed in the back of her dresser. It had been in a small box with other keepsakes of his father. That box had been one of the few things he'd managed to recover from his childhood home when held returned several years earlier. After Madeline's death, the house had fallen into disrepair, nature doing its best to reclaim the land. Erik had been glad to see it so. That accursed place of his childhood loneliness and abuse; he had suffered more in the six years there than with his time at the carnival.

Erik's thoughts turned from darkness to light when Christine shifted against him. She was more than enough to make up for all he had been through. There was nothing he could have been given that would have had the ability to make him feel as complete and content as Christine did. Perhaps Madeline showing some sign that she did love him, that she did care... but it was too late. His mother was dead and there was no way of knowing now, or brooding about all the might have beens.

Christine made a soft noise. It took him a moment to realize that it was his name so reverently sighed, even as sleep gripped her. Erik kissed the palm of her hand before placing it on his cheek. It felt so painfully good to be touched after so many years of denial of that one basic human need. She would never really understand the bliss he would always feel at the slightest of her touches... at the most innocent of gazes she gave him. And truthfully, he preferred it that way.

To understand would mean she would have to know of his childhood and the circus. She would have to know of the looks of horror he'd seen on so many faces; the laughter directed at him for something he could not control.

Her fingers moved slowly before cupping his cheek. He looked at her to see she that was awake, a slight, blushing smile on her face as she nuzzled closer to him. He moved his hand from hers, trailing it down her neck. Her eyes, still heavy with sleep, turned up to him. "Is it morning?"

Confused as he was by the question and its timing, he glanced at the little clock. It was a bit after eight in the morning. "Yes," he answered simply, grazing his fingers over her shoulders.

Grinning now, she pulled from him, stretching languidly, her modesty from before forgotten as the sheets slipped down to pool at her hips. She raised her arms above her head, arching her back slightly. Erik leaned up, running his mouth over the smooth, taut skin. Christine looked at him, smiling before she yawned and a little whimper noise escaped her. She tilted her head to look at him before she slid her body against his, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She pressed her lips against his. "Good morning then," she said, donning a silly grin.

Erik's heart swelled with love for his beautiful, little diva. His hands fell on the small of her back to still her slight wriggling. Her chocolate curls hung from her head, falling around them like a curtain.

"Good morning," he replied after he was silent for sometime. He raised himself up so that their lips met in a sweet, passionate kiss.

* * *

Christine's voice rang out sweet and pure as she sang, standing at center stage. Erik was cloaked in the darkness of Box Five, watching her. He flinched as a cellist struck a sour cord. He'd been neglecting his duties so! Monsieur Reyer would not have allowed that to happen if he'd of kept up with his Opera Ghost duties. He would have to let Monsieur Reyer know that he would not accept anything but perfection to accompany Christine's voice. In that instant, Ubaldo Piangi stepped out on stage, belting his lines. Erik hung his head, deeply shamed. If he wanted perfection to accompany Christine, a new male lead would have to be hired. One who was younger and could actually sing from his diaphragm, not his gut. 

Oh, Piangi had been good… many, many years ago… like Carlotta had once been good. Both were performing far past their primes, but no one held that draw, the ability to fill seats as they did. Not until his Christine, that is. Tickets were selling faster than ever with Christine as the lead soprano. Gossip and Opera Ghost rumors might have been the draw at first, but once she had been seen, people had fallen in love with Christine for her talent and beauty.

Monsieur Reyer began to chide Piangi and his little shadow. Christine turned her face in the direction of Box Five, fingering the chain that hung from her neck. Beneath her dress, snuggled enviably between her breasts, dangling from the chain was his ring. He'd put it there that morning before escorting her back above, explaining to her that wearing it on her finger would only bring up questions she was not ready to, and could not altogether answer. She winked before turning her attention to Monsieur Reyer and Piangi.

Erik left Box Five, using a small handful of hidden corridors, stealthily making his way to the catwalk above the stage… above Christine. He felt a possessive anger chill the blood in his veins as he looked down to see the Vicomte de Changy walk across the stage, forcing rehearsals to halt. The managers were behind him, simpering and scraping. Erik shook his head.

The boy broke away from the two men, approaching Christine. He reached inside his cloak, his fingers resting on the Punjab lasso. It would be so satisfying to wrap the rope around that arrogant boy's neck, pull it tight and watch the light slowly fade from his eyes.

He moved along so he was directly above them. Christine nervously played with the chain on her neck. "I am sorry Raoul," he heard her say, "but I did tell you I could not have supper with you."

"Little Lotte," Raoul reached for her hands, coming irritatingly close to touching her chest in the process, but she pulled back from him. "Christine? Have I done something to upset you?"

"Raoul, you were very dear to me when we were children. I should like better than anything to remain friends with you..."

"And if I should like to be more?" Erik clenched his teeth to the point of pain.

"It cannot be." She gave him a small smile. The Vicomte seemed terribly taken aback by her words… by her refusal. It must have been quite the blow to his ego. It was only fair, Erik thought, that the handsome man, who had probably been denied nothing in his entire life, be denied Christine. The fates had been kind, giving her to him.

"Is there someone who holds your heart, Little Lotte?" It was an arrogant assumption that she should deny him only because of another man, not because she simply did not want him.

"It would not change my feelings if there was," she echoed Erik's thoughts. "But, yes, there is someone. I… we are engaged, Raoul." Her face was a wash of happiness as she made the announcement. She gazed dreamily out across the theater.

"Well," the Vicomte de Chagny scratched his head nervously, stepping a few feet from Christine. "I had no idea. You had not mentioned it before"

"He only just asked for my hand."

"Last night?" She nodded her head. "I suppose congratulations are in order then. I should like to take you and your fiancé out." He forced a smile. "I should like very much to meet the man who's so captured my Little Lotte's heart."

"She was never yours," Erik seethed silently. "She has been mine since she first stepped into this building. Mine."

"I don't think that's altogether possible. He is a very private person."

"Christine, you must understand, I am very concerned about all this."

"There is no reason for you to be. He is the best of men, I assure you. He is everything I could possibly want in a husband."

"For the sake of our… friendship," he said the word as if it were something very distasteful. "I will trust your judgment." He pulled Christine into his arms. Erik's hand fisted around the Punjab lasso. It was merely a friendly hug, he forced himself to remember. The boy was nothing to Christine. He was her fiancé and they would be married and the Vicomte would never know the joys of her kisses… the feel of her flesh.

"Thank you." She moved from his arms, but he kept a firm grasp on her hands.

"Perhaps if you tell him I am an old friend and"

"No, Raoul." She graced him with one sweet, soft smile before rejoining the cast. The Vicomte's eyes never left her form, even as he left the theater with Messieurs Firmin and Andre.

Monsieur Reyer released some of the performers, keeping only the principals behind. Christine was stunning, decked in stage jewels and the ostentatious pink gown of The Countess. Erik could not wait to see her fully made up, standing under full light. She would be a vision.

He left the catwalk, heading to the managers office. While the cats were away... Erik entered the darkened room, sitting at Firmin's desk. He pulled out a sheet of paper and took a pen, dipping it in ink.

"Dear Andre," he began the first. "While I am delighted to see Christine as Countess, I am very displeased that she would receive the role only after that toad, La Carlotta, fell ill. Should Carlotta receive a leading role that Mademoiselle Daaé auditions for, I guarantee that you and Monsieur Firmin will be grievously sorry.

Your obedient servant,

O. G."

He examined the letter for a moment, debating whether or not he was being too severe. He decided that he wasn't; after all, they had brought the threat upon themselves by not obeying him to begin with.

He grabbed another sheet of paper, preparing his second letter. "Dear Firmin," he wrote swiftly. "I look forward to the final performance of the season. You will, of course, leave Box Five empty. I was beyond displeased upon seeing my box inhabited by le Vicomte de Chagny. Patron or not, it is my box. You would do well to remember that.

Also, my salary is still due. Was the junk business not as lucrative as all say that you easily squandered all your fortunes purchasing the Opera Populaire and loose women?

As always, your obedient servant,

O.G."

He smirked at that. Yes, that should get his point across nicely. He briefly debated writing one to the Vicomte as well, warning him off Christine, but thought better of it. Christine had let the boy know that she was taken and that would have to be enough for him. He sealed the letters with what was available and set them on the manager's respective desks.

He left their office, making sure no one was about and walked the deserted hallways. He loved walking under the gaslights, where people had been minutes before. He could hear voices for the dormitories. It made him feel almost normal. And here he'd watched Christine hundreds of times, walking these very halls. Sometimes she was with Meg, but more often than not, she was alone.

He reached the private dressing rooms, being more careful. He could hear Joseph Buquet clear at the other end of. That man was an infernal nuisance. Erik was certain Buquet knew of him, so it wouldn't do to have him actually see him. He crept along the shadows, freezing for a millisecond and trembling when he realized just where Buquet's voice was coming from. He was at Christine's dressing room in an instant.

"... whore!" Buquet shouted. "Trying to ruin my face like your lover's?"

The door was wide open, the lock and handles were damaged. Inside, Christine had her back to Buquet and was frantically trying to get the mirror open. Buquet was clutching his face, blood seeping from between his fingers. Her dress was rumpled and her hair, neatly pulled back during rehearsal was loose and wild. Her face was red and tears streaked her cheeks. Her lips, her soft, beautiful lips were swollen, looking as they had every time he'd kissed her. Her little hand had blood on it and Erik might have feared it was her blood, had Buquet not been bellowing obscenities in pain.

Erik advanced quickly, entering the room without being seen. He moved to stand between them. Buquet's eyes widened in horror when he saw him there, as if he'd appeared out of thin air. Erik wanted nothing more in that instant than to reach out and strangle him with his bare hands, but kept perfectly still. Buquet let out an undignified screech and ran from the room.

"Erik?" He looked at Christine, her hands, shaking, still at the mirror, inches from the latch that she'd been unable to find in her fear. She was staring at him through the glass. She lowered her hands, turning and rushing into his arms. Erik held her closely for a moment, kissing her forehead before pulling back to look her over. She looked down, refusing to meet his eyes.

With a sigh, he took her chin in his hand, reaching behind her to open the mirror. "Wait for me at the boat," he gently pushed her past the threshold. He took a candle from her vanity, handing it to her and closed the mirror. He stared at the mirror for a moment, wondering if she would even move from there. All along the glinting gold frame was blood. He would have to clean that before going through.

* * *

Erik had never felt such anger. And, yet, his mind was perfectly clear but for one thought: Joseph Buquet must die. He had dared touch Christine. He meant to do her a most grievous harm… if he had not… Erik's hands shook at the thought. His angel was so upset, trying so hard to not sob as he could easily see she wanted to. She looked so… broken. 

Yes, Buquet would die.

He reached inside his cloak, pulling out the Punjab lasso. It was comforting as he ran his hands over its length. He stalked through the backstage, looking for his prey. It wasn't long before he located the fly master. He was up in the catwalk, looking around nervously.

Was the man really so arrogant as to believe that he would have the upper hand there? Erik made his way up, a trek that took him mere seconds. The opera house had been his playground. Buquet had only been working for a handful of years; nothing compared to Erik's time there.

He approached Buquet from behind, pulling the rope between his hands. Joseph Buquet turned just then, feeling the catwalk shake from movement he was not making. His eyes bugged out in an almost comical way. He stumbled backwards. Erik approached slowly, letting a wicked grin form on his lips.

Buquet jumped to another hanging rafter, running towards a ladder. Erik, much more agile and not at all inebriated, made his way over a few rafters, coming to a stop directly in front of Buquet. The man turned; his fatal mistake. Erik tossed the Punjab lasso, catching Buquet's neck. Erik gave it a slight tug, pulling the fleeing Buquet back and to his knees. Erik knelt behind him, pulling tight on the rope, but not enough to kill.

He looked down at Buquet's red face, veins bulging from his neck and forehead, his tongue lolling out as he gasped his few final breaths of air. There were four slashes down his cheek. Blood began oozing once more from the shredded skin at the supreme pressure. The wounds Christine had given him. Erik was certainly proud she'd defended herself, at least to some degree, against this man.

He reached up to the railing, removing a rope, not caring what it was needed for, and quickly made a noose. He slid it over Buquet's head, making certain it was secured to the edge of the catwalk. He removed the Punjab lasso and shoved Buquet off, watching with extreme pleasure as the man's body shook and struggled before he stilled; the body swaying slightly even in death. Erik put away his lasso, turning to leave, not sparing the man another glance.

Authors Note: I know, I know… it's been forever and I'm sorry. I have been sitting on this chapter for a while. It's kinda weird… I've been typing the story in my cell phone whenever I'm not working or in class… and transferring the bits of story from my cell to my computer has not been fun or easy… but I have so little time at home to type stuff up, it's the only way I'd get anything done. I've got 13 with my beta, so, as soon as she gets that back to me I'll get it posted! Also, I think this is going to turn out a few chapters longer than I anticipated. shrugs Maybe I'll just keep going 'til I can't. I dunno. Just depends on my muses, who've been wonderful, sticking with me as they have. Anyway, as a peace offering and apology for how long it's taken, I give you "Atop Apollo's Lyre", a one-shot T and T smut interlude. Now I'll shut up and get cracking on 14:)

Review Responses:

Lioness-RampantYes!  
See Mrs. Brown (or I could send you a link to the caps (giggles)). Raoul will take the hint… but… he's kinda dumb… who knows

Lady Vendea  
Me too! Hehe.

draegon-fire  
Yeah… innocent passion at its best. Hehehe. Ahhh… we like horrible puns… I make 'em all the time. Ahh… the sheets… his pants… his right hand… lol. I'd take being any of those. (blushes)

Number47  
:D

No one's wife  
(huggles) I would… but I suck at men's povs.

InSearchOfMyAngel  
I would totally be happy in a little room with a computer and water just writing the day away. I think if I ever won the lotto… I would probably hole myself up like that and just write. Hahaha. Yeah… I'm terribly innocent… I've just got raging hormones (and no shame, obviously, heh) and a rabid imagination. Lol.

Marlena  
Does a little dance always glad to bring someone over to the dark side. Lol. I've got a page full of Will RPF! Yay, go me!

angelofmusic45  
Thanks!

Phantomforever  
Yay! Thanks! Glad you loved it!

Phantom's Fallen Angel  
OMG… I hope you're okay. Did the withdrawals get bad:) Hummm… Weird noises, huh? That could be a good thing… right? I guess we'll know if plushies that look like little Erik's and little Christine's come out! Hahaha!

Erik'sTrueAngel  
Thanks! I'll try and update more often, I swear!


	13. 13

Title: Tremulous and Tender  
Part: 13?  
Note: Please read the Authors note at the end of the chapter!

The boat swayed dangerously as Christine climbed into it. She sunk down on the plush pillows at the front of the boat. She drew a shaking hand over her face, pushing errant wisps of hair from her face. She would have tried to rearrange her hair altogether, but her other hand was stained with blood. It would not do to get it all over. As it was, there were dark smudges on her costume. How she would ever get it out was beyond her. She leaned over a bit, slipping her hand in the cool, dark water. The boat rocked, tilting to the side; she jerked back, not wanting to fall in.

Her mind danced with all the possibilities of what Erik could possibly be doing. What kind of fate had Joseph Buquet sealed for himself? People feared the Opera Ghost for a reason. Reasons she was not entirely clear about, as nothing terrible had ever happened to anyone since she'd arrived at the opera house. But, she remembered the look for absolute fury on Erik's face as he turned to leave the room. She shut her eyes tightly, wishing that the past few minutes had been nothing but a horrible, horrible nightmare.

"Christine," she opened her eyes to see Erik standing beside the boat. He knelt beside her, taking her face in his gloved hands. His hands, so gentle and loving, that had probably just murdered a man. Christine shuddered. She'd never felt more ashamed as he caressed her bruised lips... the lips that Buquet had violated. Did a man deserve to die because he had kissed her? Or did he deserve to die because he wished to try and do more? She grabbed Erik's hands, moving her face from his grasp.

Something in his normally gorgeous, vibrant green eyes snapped, gleaming an eerie gold color. He stood abruptly, climbing in the boat and began pushing them through the flooded underground. She was already on land, rushing to her room, when he had barely docked the boat. She shut the door behind her, wanting a few moments to collect herself before she faced Erik.

Shedding her clothes, she walked to the small alcove that served as a washroom and poured water into the porcelain basin. She washed her face and arms, scrubbing her skin hard with the velvety soap Erik provided for her. She rubbed until her skin was a frightening shade of pink. She did the same with her chest and neck. Tears brimmed as she finally washed her face. On her neck were many dark splotches; marks of Erik's passion from the night before and early into the morning. But the one… the newest and most hideous one, left by that foul man stood out. Tears tracked their way down, mingling and disappearing in the soap and water she splashed on. She rinsed her mouth too, wanting nothing more than to be rid of the acrid taste of alcohol and Lord only knew what else, that was Joseph Buquet.

Shaking still, she willed herself to clam some as she carefully pat her skin dry. She changed her underclothes, only putting on a nightgown, suddenly too tired and worn to redress completely. She carefully tied her hair back before moving to sit on the edge of the bed, burying her face on her hands.

She didn't know how long she sat there, her mind a jumbled mess. There was a soft knock on the door before Erik opened it, stepping in. He was nervous, not moving further than the entrance. She opened her mouth to speak, but he raised his hand. "We can talk in the morning. You should get some rest."

Christine nodded, sliding to lie in the bed. Erik lingered in the doorway before turning to leave. He had a sad, almost helpless look in his eyes as he bid her goodnight.

* * *

"_You would turn down a Vicomte for a monster, Mademoiselle?" Christine spun at the sound of Joseph Buquet's voice. He looked quite drunk as he beckoned to her from in between the flies where he stood. _

"_I don't know what you're talking about." She quickly rushed through the theater to her dressing room, locking the door behind her. She felt violated that he should be spying on her conversation with Raoul! And just what did he know of Erik? _

_There was a heavy banging on her door. She knew who stood on the other side and backed further into the room. The handle jiggled and after a minute, there was a popping sound and the door opened. Splinters flew as the door was slammed against the wall. Buquet tossed some tools he held to the floor. "Running from me, Mademoiselle Daaé? Why run from me when you scream for the Opera Ghost?" He said "Opera Ghost" in such a snide and mocking way that it was obvious he knew that there was no ghost, but a man. _

"_Leave or I shall…"_

"_Have your lover come attack me?" He laughed, encroaching on her personal space. "He is but a man. He cannot be everywhere at once and I believe he is elsewhere in the opera house…"_

"_Get out." She moved away from him, further into her dressing room with nowhere else to go. If need be, she would go through the mirror and make her way through the darkness, but that would mean giving up one of Erik's secrets. _

_He rushed forward, grabbing her by her waist and pulling her flush against him. His rank breath assaulted her nose as he tried to kiss her. "C'mon," his mouth touched her cheek. "Be a good girl and I will tell no one of your phantom." He gave up trying to kiss her and attacked her neck, biting her skin, sucking at it, and laving it with his grotesque tongue. _

"_No!" She pushed at his chest as his mouth lowered to attempt to kiss her again. She shook her head violently, shoving at him, her hands, tiny fists, hitting at his chest. She desperately wanted to scream for Erik, but she knew better than to reveal his name. "Let go of me!" She stomped on his foot, a highly ineffective move since her slipper covered feet were so tiny and he was wearing heavy work boots. _

"_Silence, Woman!" He turned her face with one grimy hand and pressed his mouth to hers. Christine began to cry at that assault, but didn't stop trying to break free. Unfortunately he was just so much stronger than she. His tongue wormed its way into her mouth. Christine seized the opportunity and bit it. _

_He let out a yelp and jerked his head back from her, but didn't release her from his grasp. She wanted to gag; the taste he'd left in her mouth was one she wasn't likely to be rid of or forget any time soon. He glared at her, spitting blood out onto her dressing room's floor. His glare turned to a grin as he began plucking at the buttons on the back of her gown. _

_Christine felt all the blood drain from her face. No! She pulled back, lifting her arm, intent on slapping him, but he moved back to avoid her hand. His action didn't move him far enough away, so when she brought her hand down, her nails raked down his face, leaving delicate red trails in their wake. _

_He let go of her, grasping his wounds. "Filthy, little whore!" He snapped. "Trying to ruin my face like your lovers?"_

_Christine rushed over to the mirror. Beyond the mirror lay the safety of the darkness and Erik. She struggled to get it open, her fear making her clumsy. She turned back when she head Buquet gasp. Erik walked, almost too calmly, into the room, situating himself between Buquet and herself. _

_His face was a carefully composed mask, no emotions showing. But his eyes, his beautiful green eyes were hard and cold and a dangerous anger flickered to life in them. When he'd been angry with her for removing his mask, he'd terrified her. But, it was an anger she'd seen on many a face before. _

_This was different. He looked positively sinister. In that moment, all of the Opera Ghost rumors she'd heard over the years, the ones of death and mayhem and torture came back to her. It scared her.

* * *

_

Christine jerked awake. Erik's face was the first thing she saw, he still had the mask on and it startled her. She reached up, pulling his mask off with trembling fingers, letting it fall to the sheets between them. He turned his face from her. She sighed, trying to rub away the memories as easily she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

"You were crying out in your sleep."

She sat up, hugging the sheets to her. "I was?"

"What..." he started, but stopped, sitting beside her in silence. Christine looked at him for a moment, taking a deep breath.

"He kissed me, that's all."

"He meant to do more."

Although it wasn't a question, she felt compelled to respond. "Yes."

There is was again, the tense, uncomfortable silence. Erik got out of bed. "You will not be returning above," he said, retrieving his mask and putting it on. Christine was beyond shocked at that statement and it must have shown on her face. "At least not until the new year," he added quickly.

She was to stay three months with him? How... scandalous! Her nightly disappearances were one thing that could be easily explained. But three months? She had no family she could claim to be...

Dear god in heaven, Erik must have killed Joseph Buquet, if he wasn't going to let her go back. Or...perhaps he didn't kill him and it was for fear of another attack that she couldn't return. She hoped upon hope it was the latter.

"Erik, what happened?"

"Do not ask me, Christine, a question to which you do not want the answer to," he said, looking grim. She shut her eyes until Erik's footsteps died away and the door shut softly.

Author's Note – Please Read – I cannot say how sorry I am for the lag between chapters. I should have had this one up ages ago, but I've just fallen into this weird writing funk. The only thing I can think to do is to put "Tremulous and Tender" on hiatus before I post anymore chapters that I'm not happy with, like the past two. I don't know for how long. I'm hoping only until the middle/end-ish of May. This story was meant to be light and happy and it's not at all going that way. So when I do begin posting again, look for a turn back to its fluffier roots (imagine… Erik… Christine… three months all by themselves (grins wickedly)). And I would like to have the story complete before posting anymore. That way I don't keep all my readers in suspense. Also, I'll respond to reviews whenever the next chapter is posted. (bows) Thank you all so much for your support and understanding.


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